Various and Sundry Dramione
by RiverWriter
Summary: A collection of one-shots, drabbles, and random story ideas. Updated sporadically, whenever the muse strikes.
1. The Shop Around the Corner

**This is a one shot I wrote for a friend that I posted on Tumblr last week but I thought I would share it here too. She gave me a prompt and this is what I came up with. The prompt was: we were both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up.**

 **Warning: This is rated M for a reason, there are lemons ahead. If that's not your thing give this one a miss.**

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He came to a startled halt, almost tripping over his own feet when he saw the woman seated at the table in front of him. He'd known her since they were eleven years old, but even if he'd only met her once or twice before he never could have mistaken that hair as belonging to anybody else. There was a book on the table in front of her- how predictable- and on top of that was a red rose which she was fiddling with nervously. Typical bleeding heart Granger had been conned into buying a flower off the streets.

She was the only single witch in the whole restaurant so she must be his date. He couldn't imagine what Nott had been thinking setting him up with Granger, but at the very least they would have an interesting meal. Granger was always good for a laugh, she was so easily riled. And then maybe they could have some fun later too. He surreptitiously straightened his tie and smoothed his lapels, pleased that he'd worn a muggle suit despite the magical establishment; he'd noticed how her eyes lingered on him when he came into her shop wearing muggle attire. He wanted her attention on him.

He slid into the seat across from her and was rather gratified to hear her gasp. It was a rare thing to catch Granger off her guard.

"Malfoy," she said, she'd sat all the way back in her chair, getting as far away from him as she possibly could without leaving the table, and she was the only woman in England from whom he wouldn't find this reaction insulting. He knew very well that she was not afraid of him. Quite the opposite actually. And she'd made something of a sport of exceeding his expectations.

The first time she'd done it unknowingly. She'd opened her own bookshop, following her passion rather than shackling herself to the Ministry like everybody had expected. And he admired that, so he'd tracked it down out of curiosity.

He'd never intended to go inside as he wasn't welcome in so many respectable businesses- Hermione Granger's bookshop should have been completely out of the realm of possibility- and he wasn't willing to open himself up to that kind of embarrassment. But then he'd spotted a sign in the window advertising that she was willing to find rare books, and he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to test her. She hadn't turned him away.

And she found all of the increasingly difficult to locate tomes he'd requested over the past few years. In fact, she'd met each challenge with aplomb and he couldn't help but continue to push her. He'd spent an outrageous amount of money on a volume about the history of the Roman Empire for his father for Christmas last year in his quest to trip her up. The look on her face when she'd presented it to him had been worth it.

He looked at her now. She was dressed more provocatively than he'd ever seen; low cut blouse exposing some enticing cleavage, hair pulled away from her face which was otherwise as wild as ever, and some make-up charms which made her eyes look large and seductive, and her cheeks stand out. She'd grown into an attractive woman and she looked especially beautiful tonight, and it made him irrationally angry.

So, he fell back on his strengths. Eyeing the book sitting on the table he sneered at her. "'Pride and Prejudice,' Granger? Really, could you be more of a cliche?"

"This is a great work of literature," she defended with a huff.

He snorted. "I bet you read it every year, don't you?" he taunted, "and you discover something new every time?" he mocked in a falsetto voice. He'd dated some muggle university students after that last terrible year at Hogwarts when he'd needed a break from witches, and they'd been disappointingly predictable. They'd all loved that book.

She bit her lip and glared at him. "Have you actually read it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I have."

"So you know that it's about surpassing expectations and overcoming preconceived notions for both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. And that they suffered greatly before they learned to accept that they were each too proud and too prejudiced to see the truth of each other?" she asked snidely, giving him a knowing look.

Touche, he acknowledged, sitting back in his seat

She started fiddling with the stem of that damn rose again. And he noticed that even though she was all dressed up and had clearly bathed recently, her fingers were ink-stained. He realized he'd never seen her without ink-stained hands.

He was about to signal for a waiter- it was about time they at least got some wine- when a male voice interrupted them.

"Excuse me, I think I'm meant to be meeting you."

Draco turned to see a perfectly ordinary looking bloke watching Granger expectantly.

"Ginny told me you would have a book and a rose and that's how I'd recognize you," the other wizard continued.

Draco's heart fell as he realized what was happening here. He hadn't been set up with Granger, they were both meant to meet other people. This was just a terrible and- rapidly becoming uncomfortable- coincidence. And then as if called a woman appeared behind the other man.

"Draco?" she questioned. Of course she knew his name. She was tall and thin, her straight hair cut in a rather harsh manner that reminded him of the way Pansy had worn hers at Hogwarts. In other words, she looked just like every pure blooded witch his age. And she was exactly what he had expected from a Theodore Nott set-up. He hated her immediately.

However, there was nothing to be done about it. He stood up and with a quick, "good to see you Granger," he took the other witch's arm and escorted her to an empty table across the room which was apparently the one which had actually been reserved for them.

She was dull, and either too stupid or too self-involved to notice that he paid her hardly any attention. He assumed it was some combination of the two. He knew that she was probably only here because Theo had obviously dropped his name to her and the Malfoy wealth was legendary. Vast enough that a certain set of women were willing to overlook the mark on his left forearm in a bid to gain access to it. He'd never found that overly bothersome before tonight.

What did capture his attention was Granger. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Sentimental Granger who'd brought a romance novel and a flower to signal her identity to her date. Passionate, irreverent, outspoken Granger who appeared to be bored out of her mind with her date. He absentmindedly chatted with his own date, relying on years of multitasking in business meetings to avoid completely ignoring her, even as he was enchanted by the witch across the room. He caught and held her gaze at every opportunity. He smirked and winked and watched her avidly as she daintily ate her meal. And she watched him too.

He rid himself of his date as soon as humanly possible and retreated a discreet distance away from the entrance to the restaurant to wait for her. She emerged a few minutes later accompanied by her date, but Draco was satisfied to see that she dodged his attempts to even give her a kiss on the cheek. Once she rid herself of him she headed off in the direction of her shop- she lived in a flat above it- and he was waiting for her to walk by him.

"Well that was a waste of a perfectly good evening," he drawled.

Her footsteps didn't falter and she just gazed at him, obviously unsurprised to see him. "I'm sorry your date didn't go well, but Mark was perfectly lovely," she said haughtily.

He snorted. "Who do you think you're fooling, Granger? I was in that room too, you were completely bored by him."

She let out a surprised little laugh and stopped walking, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're right. I don't know how to better explain to Ginny that if I wanted a mummy's boy with clumsy table manners and nothing better to talk about than quidditch, then I would be married to her brother. But I don't and I'm not."

"Quidditch!" he barked out a laugh, "he was talking to you about quidditch? Merlin, Granger, it's actually public knowledge that you don't care for quidditch."

She pulled a face. "Needless to say, we won't be seeing each other again. What was so bad about your date? She was very pretty."

"Was she?" He shrugged. "I've forgotten what she looked like already. Her name was Kathryn," he leaned over and whispered to her like it was a secret, "with a 'y.'"

"What's wrong with the name Kathryn?"

He shook his head, "nothing at all, it's perfectly lovely, but that's not the point. The point is that she said it like it made her special. She thought she was special when she's really just like all the others."

"Good Godric, Malfoy but you're a snob," she snickered.

He just tilted his head in acknowledgement, she wasn't wrong and he wasn't ashamed of having high standards. "She told me that she likes muggle fashion magazines, she said it like it was something naughty, like I'm not perfectly aware that they're all the rage with all the pure blooded princesses these days. You know, you should stock them in your shop, you would make a killing."

She gave him a odd look, they'd discussed this in the past, but she went with it. "My shop is for serious readers and seekers of knowledge. If they want fashion magazines and celebrity gossip they can march their little arses in to muggle London and find them on their own." She let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't they realize how hypocritical it is, wanting to emulate muggle fashion but refusing to associate with them?"

He stopped her with a hand on her arm and she turned to face him. He looked at her seriously "No, Granger, that's the point, they don't realize it at all."

She sighed again but nodded, acknowledging his point. They continued on their way in silence and when they reached her shop she hesitated in front of the door. He held her gaze as he spoke. "Invite me in."

She bit her lip as she considered him but eventually nodded. She took out her wand and released the wards and then in one swift motion he grabbed her, opened the door, and once they were inside spun her around and pressed her up against it. It shut with a loud bang but neither of them seemed to notice as he covered her mouth with his. She dropped her wand and her bag and her hands went to his shoulders while his went to her hips and their lips moved in frantic tandem.

After several heated minutes he began to suck on her neck while he ran one hand up her inner thigh, hiking her skirt up in the process. He stroked her through her knickers and then hooked two fingers underneath the soaked material and eased them into her body. She cried out at the sudden intrusion but hastily spread her legs to accommodate him.

"So wet," he murmured, "is this for me?"

"You know it is, you bastard," she spat, he knew she was trying to sound angry, but the breathless quality of her voice belied her irritation, "you eye fucked me across that restaurant for two hours. I'll never look at a piece of cheesecake the same way again." She roughly pulled at his hair in what he assumed was meant to be a bit of vengeance but actually just further inflamed his desire for her.

"Yes, you did look like you were imagining putting something else entirely in your mouth while you were eating that." He leered and pressed his erection against her demonstratively. "It took every ounce of self-control I possess to keep from marching over there and beating that idiot to a bloody pulp for witnessing that look on your face, it was only knowing that I was the one that put it there, and not him, that stopped me."

She snorted derisively as she unbuttoned her own blouse and grabbed the back of his head, guiding him to suck on her through the lace of her bra. It was one of the things he loved most about being with her; the way she took control of and owned her own pleasure, completely unashamed. It had surprised him the first time they'd done this, he'd believed her to be uptight, but that was just the facade she showed the world. He loved that he was the one who got to see her like this. And then he realized something and he recoiled violently from her, eyeing her sexy lingerie.

"Did you wear this for him? Were you going to bring him back here and let him into these pretty knickers if I hadn't been there tonight?" he hissed the accusation as he eyed the wanton woman in his arms, that was unacceptable.

She shook her head, but her eyes were closed in pleasure and he wasn't sure that she was even really listening to him, much less telling the truth. He went completely still and her eyes popped open in alarm.

"Draco, what are you doing?" she whined, attempting to squirm in his arms to gain some friction; but he was much bigger than her and he held her resolutely still, pinned between himself and the door.

"Go on a date with me," he demanded

She reared back in surprise, smacking her head on the heavy wood in the process, but she didn't even seem to notice. "What are you talking about?"

"It's very simple Granger, agree to go on a date with me. An actual date. In public. Not sneaking around to shag. Say yes and I'll make you feel so good," he began to pump his fingers at a tortuously slow pace to demonstrate his meaning, and then he carefully inserted a third.

She gasped, "that's blackmail!" She was trying to sound scandalized even as she was desperately attempting to move her hips to match the rhythm of his hand.

He chuckled darkly. "Sweetheart, you willingly climbed into bed with a snake. What did you expect?"

"We agreed, we agreed that it was just sex. Nobody would understand if they knew!"

They had agreed- a year ago when he'd come across her at a Ministry event unaccompanied by any of her little friends. They'd flirted and drank too much and ended up shagging frantically against the door to his flat. He'd chosen tonight's location to emulate that event very strategically.

Because he'd realized tonight that he didn't care what they'd agreed to, if he ever saw her out with another wizard again he was going to lose his mind. The thought of those ink-stained hands on anybody but him was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. It was a bloody annoying way to find out that he was in love with her. But there it was. He wanted her, all the time and in every way; he was used to getting what he wanted, and he wasn't afraid to fight dirty.

And the thing was that he suspected she felt the same way. Tonight had been his first date in longer than he could remember and that was, in large part, because he spent almost all of his free time with her. So rather than argue with her, he changed tack.

"What if, instead of being completely bored tonight, I found that I liked Kathryn," he said her name with malicious glee, ensuring she was reminded that he had been out with another woman, "what if I'd decided to take her home, get her wet and lick her clean? You know how I like to do that. She would have let me," he explained with utter confidence, "she was sending out all the right signals. Would that have been okay with you Hermione?" he brushed his thumb across her clit as he said her name, she jerked in his arms and whimpered, but her eyes were hard and angry, which was exactly what he wanted. "But I didn't want her, I want you.' He punctuated that declaration with a hard kiss. "I'm here with you. Just say yes and I'll make you come so hard you'll forget there was another wizard within three feet of you tonight."

She just stared at him defiantly and remained silent. She was maddening and Merlin he adored it. He bucked against her leg, making sure she could feel every inch of him- a reminder of what she could have if she'd just stop being so bloody stubborn- and dipped his head to nip at a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear. Her mouth dropped open and she arched against his chest, and he knew that he had her.

"Draco," she whined, "please."

"Please what?" he picked up the pace that he was moving his fingers within her and curled them so that he was stroking her just the way she liked best.

"Oh God, oh Merlin, yes, yes, just please don't stop," she cried.

"That's it, was that so hard?" he crooned.

He inserted one strong thigh more firmly between her legs, lifted her slightly with his free arm, and then let her sink down so that she was fully impaled on his fingers. Her mouth popped open, an expression of pure bliss on her face. And then he began to move with real purpose.

She clung to him, writhing and moaning until with one more deliberate curl of his fingers he allowed the heel of his hand to hit her clit, and she screamed as she finally fell over the precipice. It was something to witness. He'd been holding her right at the edge for so long, she shook violently as she came, and as her orgasm abated she collapsed completely against him. He held her up as he gently eased her down from her high. When he finally removed his hand from her body he carefully reversed their position so that his back was to the door, and then he sunk to the floor with her on his lap.

After awhile her breathing slowed but she remained clinging to his shirt, her face buried against his chest. "Draco," she finally said, her voice small and shy.

"Did you mean it?" he asked simply.

She nodded.

"That's all I needed to know. Now, I'm going to rest for another minute and then I'm going to take you upstairs and finish ravishing you. And I'm not going to sneak out in the middle of the night like I'm your dirty little secret anymore."

She finally lifted her head, smirking as she looked pointedly at her disheveled clothing. "Well, maybe not a secret anymore, but definitely still dirty."


	2. Twenty Years Later

**This is a little drabble I wrote in celebration of the 20th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. It takes place in the same universe as my Christmas one-shot "The Method to Their (Christmas) Madness. You absolutely do not need to read that to understand this but I thought those who had might like to know that :) This was originally posted on Tumblr so if you follow me there, I'm sorry, but this might not be new.**

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She woke up alone. She realized she should have expected that.

She found him sitting silently at their kitchen table, she could just make out his figure in the low pre-dawn light. His head bowed, he was rubbing at his left forearm in a manner that, while it appeared absent-minded, she knew to be anything but.

She wriggled her body between him and the table and fell onto his lap. He made a half hearted attempt to push her away but she just looped her arms around his neck and held on until he settled again.

He let out a heaving sigh- he did have a flair for the dramatic- and buried his face in her hair.

They all had their bad days, days where they were haunted by the things they'd seen and done, days where they felt like helpless teenagers again. She and Harry were particularly affected by Christmas Eve. There was a day in mid-October that, while they never ever talked about it, she knew Ron spent alone with a bottle of firewhiskey. And on May 2nd of every year Draco wallowed in guilt and self-hatred.

"Why?" he rasped.

She didn't need to ask for clarification, it was the same thing he wanted to know every year. She took a deep breath. She had a different argument this year. "Leo, Adhara, and Caelum."

His hands gripped her reflexively. "What?"

"Every year you ask me why. Why did you survive when so many other didn't? No matter how much good you do in the world, how much happiness you create, you refuse to believe you deserve this life that you have. But I defy you to sit here, Draco Malfoy, and tell me our children don't deserve theirs."

"No-"

"So that's why," she interrupted. "If you need reasons. I've given you three. You had to be here to bring those three precious souls into the world with me. Tell me that's not enough."

In the silence that followed she took his hand. She'd held his hand every year since that first one. Held her head high at his side while they attended the annual remembrance ceremonies. He argued with her each time and tried to slink off to the back. This year she decided she wasn't going to have it.

"Okay Granger, you've got me there."

Eighteen years of marriage, three children, and he still called her 'Granger.' She found it particularly ironic given how hard he'd fought to convince her to change her name. She turned to see that although his eyes were still shuttered, he was smirking slightly. She ran her fingers along his jawline, scratching gently against the stubble she found there and sighed as she contemplated the dark possibility of a life without this man.

"There's me too, you know."

"You?" he asked, leaning into her touch.

"Yes, me. I survived the war but I wasn't really living there for awhile. You know this. I was numb and adrift but then during that last year at Hogwarts…" she smiled to herself, "you made me want to strangle you. Then you just made me _want_ you. And then you made me love you. My life after the war is the life we've built together."

He brushed her hair back and placed a lingering kiss beneath her ear. "I love you."

"I love you too." She reluctantly pulled her hand away from his face and climbed out of his lap then held her hand out to him. "Please come back to bed, we can get a little more sleep before Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lavender come over for breakfast. It's our turn this year."

He allowed her to help him up and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "That's at least the tenth time you've reminded me."

"Yes well, you have a tendency to be conveniently forgetful of our plans when they involve Harry and Ron," she said looking over her shoulder at him, eyes narrowed playfully.

"That's a lot easier on the other 364 days a year when I have no trouble also forgetting that I owe those two idiots my life," he admitted.

She just gave him a squeeze. "Bed."


	3. Power

**This is yet another thing I posted on Tumblr a few days ago. It was inspired by a mood board created by Trinkisme. If you would like to see it you can find it on my Tumblr or hers, #power.**

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Love is a powerful force. Those who have felt it know that. It is a thing of fairy tales but also great tragedies. It is grand gestures and terrible heartbreak. It can make a house a home or tear your life apart. And it is just as likely to start a war as it is to end one.

And love denied, that is the most dangerous kind of all. Because how could one ever hope to suppress that kind of power? The destruction that could be wrought when it is finally unleashed…unimaginable.

Hermione had always been restless. She felt like she couldn't know enough, couldn't do enough, was never good enough. As a result she became an overachiever at a very young age. People called her a swot and a know-it-all but what they didn't understand, what she couldn't explain no matter how hard she tried, was that it was actually a compulsion to be better, to be more.

The day she found out she was a witch she thought she'd found her solution. Once she learned how to wield her magic she would surely be able settle into the person she was always meant to be. So it was truly horrifying for her to discover that things only got worse when she arrived at Hogwarts and started practicing magic on a regular basis.

Far from settled, she was nearly manic. She worked harder and longer but there was still just something she needed that she couldn't quite find. Sometimes she felt like she was going to crawl out of her own skin, like maybe it was her corporeal form that was limiting her and her spirit just needed to be free. Worse than that were the times she thought she was going mad, she'd read terrible stories about witches whose magic had turned on them and driven then insane.

So, she threw herself into being Harry Potter's best friend. Trouble magnet that he was, at least her obscene work ethic was of some real use, and that gave her a certain kind of satisfaction. But it wasn't enough.

The first time she ever got any relief was also the first time she ever physically struck somebody. Draco Malfoy was the most infuriating boy she'd ever met. It felt good to take him down a peg or two. Or so she told herself.

Time passed. Things only got worse. She learned to grin and bear it.

Sixth year was nearly her undoing. She walked around feeling like part of herself was actually missing. There was no distracting herself or burying herself in her work. It got so bad that she went to see Madam Pomfrey who informed her that she was perfectly healthy. She wasn't brave enough to tell her that she felt mortally wounded.

On the worst day of her life she finally found salvation. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that they found each other.

Under brutal torture and in unimaginable pain she heard a great clap of thunder. She thought it might have been her skull cracking open. But then an energy, a buzzing in her veins. Her magic gathered at her core and she could feel it like never before, knew instinctively that she would be able to use it like never before.

She let out a roar and it exploded. She leapt to her feet, opening her eyes to see Bellatrix collapsed beneath her, unconscious or dead, she didn't care. She gave her a little shove with one foot for good measure. The group of snatchers who had been gathered a few feet away were frozen and suspended mid-air, and the Malfoys were cowering in a corner, eyes wide as they took in the scene before them. At least the older couple was. Their son was standing in front of her looking for all the world like some kind of avenging god. Eyes glowing, he radiated power and fury.

Draco.

He was the most beautiful and terrible thing she'd ever seen, and she had never been less frightened in her life. She took several strides in his direction and threw herself into his arms.

"You," she said, clinging to him.

"Me. Me and you," he pressed her into his chest, "and they've kept me from you," he growled.

"Who?" She felt her eyes narrow.

"Them, all of them, they told me you were dirty. They told me I couldn't have you. But look what's between us." He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it and forcing her to look around.

They were surrounded by a blue aura that she knew, she could feel was coming from him to protect them from anybody how might dare challenge them. She didn't think that was anybody would at the moment. And maybe never again.

She extended her hand to see her magic sparking from it, like little bolts of lightning and that's when she realized that there was a light rain falling down on them. She looked up, the ceiling of the grand room they were in was cracked open to the elements, like it had been damaged by an earthquake. The sky that had been clear when they had been take to the Manor was now dark and clouded, but the rainfall was soft and refreshing, like the first life-bringing storm of spring.

She switched her gaze to his face. He was smirking.

"You?"

"Me," he confirmed, chuckling darkly, "but you did some damage of your own." He looked around pointedly and she noticed scorch marks maring the floor and the walls. The rug beneath her feet was a ruined mess. "Now, I think it's about time we bent the world to our will, instead of the other way around. Don't you think?"

She licked her lips, feeling giddy and powerful. Consumed by, but also consuming the man in her arms. Neither would ever be at the mercy of the other, they belonged to each other now. But the world? Yes, the world would be theirs for the taking.

"That sounds perfect."


	4. Marked

A harried looking Professor McGonagall woke her in the middle of the night and she was instantly alert. When she realized that her head of house looked not just annoyed but also rather scared she went from concerned to terrified. Anything that could frighten the formidable older witch was certainly something to worry about. It was only her first night back at school from the summer holidays but that didn't mean much. Merlin, Harry had already had a rather disastrous run-in with Draco, anything could have happened in the hours she'd been asleep!

'Malfoy,' she corrected herself silently, as soon as she thought his first name, 'you have to call him Malfoy, even in your head, neither of you can afford a slip up,' she continued to chide herself.

After she'd pulled on her school robes- it was already too cold in Scotland at this time of night and inside this drafty castle to even contemplate traipsing around in her pajamas- she followed her professor quickly out of the dormitory, scurrying to keep up with the taller woman's longer strides. McGonagall didn't seem to notice her struggle and Hermione's concern ratcheted up another notch that the formidable professor was so uncharacteristically flustered. She'd asked her what was going on but McGonagall had remained tight-lipped and had only said that she was needed immediately in the headmaster's office. Her stomach churned with anxiety but she followed along without further comment.

"Acid pops," McGonagall said briskly when they reached the gargoyle that guarded the Head's office, barely pausing her stride; it leapt aside and Hermione followed her up the spiral staircase.

The door swung open automatically when they reached it and they both stepped inside. Hermione quickly looked around hoping for any clues as to why she'd been summoned. But invariably her eyes landed on one thing and one thing only, the person whom she'd never been very good at avoiding no matter how many times they agreed it was for the best. The object of her nearly obsessive thoughts for the past few months when she'd been unable to see him: Draco Malfoy.

He stood off to the side just feet away from her looking, well, terrible. His posture was hunched, his robes were askew, and his usually perfectly styled hair was mussed. It was like he sensed her eyes on him, he immediately turned to look at her, and the amount of pain she saw reflected on his face had her gasping out loud.

"What's wrong?" she croaked before she could even remember that she wasn't supposed to care about Draco and what might have happened to him.

She had little time to worry about that though, as he was quickly closing the space between them. And then, in a move she wouldn't have expected from him in a million years, he fell forward onto his knees before her. Ever so carefully he reached for her, obviously expecting to be rejected, she automatically took a step toward him, and as if it was the most natural thing in the world his hands cupped her hips and his forehead came to rest against her abdomen as if in supplication. It was more than she could take.

"Sweetheart," she blurted, "please tell me what's the matter," she insisted.

 _That_ got his attention as it was something they'd never allowed themselves- terms of affection- certainly no pet names. But damn it all, he was, a sweetheart and _hers_ even if nobody else knew it, and she couldn't stand to see him like this. His head had snapped up and he was staring at her now, his face was open and raw with an emotion she couldn't name, but which made her heart ache.

"I know you can never forgive me, but please know how sorry I am," he begged, sounding not at all like himself, his usually strong voice was raspy and strained.

"I don't think there's anything I wouldn't forgive you," she answered with raw honesty.

"This is unforgivable," he sobbed.

Sobbed.

Draco Malfoy was kneeling on the floor sobbing. This was as bad as it could be. And that's when something clicked in her brain.

Harry had been insisting for weeks that he was a Death Eater. She'd been sure it wasn't true, had known he didn't want it and he was far too young anyway. Sure, he had been acting strangely, but his father was in Azkaban and that fact nearly killed him; strange behavior was to be expected. It didn't mean he'd been marked. What use would Voldemort have for a schoolboy?

Now she knew with agonizing clarity that she'd been stupidly naive. Voldemort had been fighting this war using children for years, did she really think a madman would hesitate to use those who were supposed to be on his side?She'd been so worried for Harry, the boy who needed her, that she'd forced herself to push away her worry for Draco, the boy who wouldn't accept her help. She'd longed for him, but she'd told herself he was safely ensconced in his ancestral home with his mother and that no harm would come to him there. More than naive, she'd been delusional.

She clutched him to her for a moment and then she took his left hand in both of hers. He didn't fight her as she began to roll up his sleeve. She'd known what she'd find underneath and yet the sight of it still made her heart stop and then break completely. There, in ugly contrast to his beautiful pale skin, was the Dark Mark. The skin around the hideous tattoo was red and inflamed, it looked infected. Her horror turned to concern.

"Are you in pain?" She exclaimed.

He nodded.

"But what the hell does that matter? Why are you just standing there? Don't you know what this means? Why aren't you kicking me or cursing me or both?" He moaned desperately.

She frowned at him.

"Why? So that you can hurt more than you're already hurting? Of course I know what it means, and that's why I'm so disgusted that it's on your arm! Because I also know you. Your heart is good and your soul is pure and if you were really the kind of person who believed in what this meant I can only assume that you would be out celebrating your ascension into the ranks of the Dark Lord's elite army and not here sobbing at the feet of a muggleborn witch!" she finished practically yelling at him, insulted on his behalf.

How he managed to be both the most arrogant and most self deprecating person she'd ever met she doubted she'd ever manage to fully work out.

"I'm so happy to hear you say that Miss Granger," a voice interrupted.

They both startled and turned to face their headmaster, having completely forgotten that they had an audience.

"Is it safe to say that your relationship isn't quite as contentious as you've led us to believe in the past?" he continued sternly, but his eyes were twinkling wildly and there was a quirk of amusement on his lips.

Professor McGonagall and- Hermione was even more startled to see- Professor Snape stood to one side of his desk staring at them with expressions of utter shock on their faces. Dumbledore kept talking, like he wasn't being soundly ignored by the other four occupants of the room.

"Perhaps you could take a seat and we can discuss what to do about this?"

Hermione finally gathered her wits, nodded, and extended her hand to Draco who was still on his knees before her. He looked at her dumbly and she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

Hermione extended her hand towards the boy- man- she'd secretly loved for years now. "I think the cat's officially out of the bag, you might as well let me help you up."

He took her hand and immediately entwined their fingers, but refused to allow her to give him any assistance as he climbed up off of the floor. Somehow, she didn't think that boded well. She knew he was strong and proud, but he was in deep and he was going to have to learn to accept help.


	5. Joined Forces

Hermione popped back to their flat feeling melancholy. She made a half hearted effort to slip into her bedroom without him noticing, but Draco Malfoy was not one to be avoided. Especially after she'd had a date with Ron Weasley. He _always_ wanted to hear about it and never failed to ask a million questions.

Draco was her best friend. She could no longer pretend that he wasn't. They'd struck up a friendship during their final, 'eighth' year at Hogwarts. While she still loved Harry and Ron immensely, they had disappeared into auror training in the wake of the war and because she had declined to join them, she had been left feeling rather alone at school. Ginny, who was her closest friend left at Hogwarts, was a hero within the school and while she didn't revel in it, she definitely didn't shy away from it either. She seemed to feel that it was something of a duty. Whereas Hermione felt that she'd _more_ than done her duty, and the attention made her uncomfortable. And so, she sought refuge with a student who had been nothing short of a pariah that year on the theory that it was the perfect way to get the rest of the student body to just leave her alone.

She'd sunk into a seat across from him at his table in the library on one day in late fall. He'd looked up, half amused, half annoyed. "Help yourself, Granger," he'd drawled.

But she had been prepared with her pitch. "They'll leave us alone," she'd whispered hurriedly.

"Excuse me?"

"They're all either afraid of, or hate us both. For some it's a combination. If we joined forces, if we were a united front… nobody would know how to handle it. They'd leave us the-" she whipped out her wand and shot a pinching hex, which was meant to scare, but not quite injure a student who had been lurking behind her, "hell alone," she'd finished her explanation.

He'd watched her actions carefully.

"Rather ruthless, Granger." His words were dubious but his lips curled into a smirk of approval.

She'd shrugged. "There's no permanent damage. I just startled him. But it serves him right, I'm sick of being fodder for public consumption."

He had cocked his head and regarded her for a long moment. "I'll consider it," he finally said. And they'd spent the rest of the evening silently studying at the same table.

Three days later _he_ had approached _her_ and offered his hand.

Their interactions were tentative at first, because neither had really trusted their careful detente. But then, their many common interests turned what was meant to be an alliance into a deep friendship in only a matter of weeks. Hermione had felt rather dizzied by the whole thing, she'd never made friends so easily. It had literally taken a mountain troll trying to murder them to bond her, Harry, and Ron.

Harry and Ron were so furious over the news of the burgeoning friendship, that they staged an intervention one Hogsmeade weekend. Ginny, despite their expectations, had backed her up, and confirmed that Draco had- in fact- changed and become both a good friend and a reliable protector to Hermione. And so, in lieu of infuriating their respective girlfriends, they'd backed off. Later, Ginny had confided to Hermione that if she was going to be stuck at Hogwarts away from Harry, she at least wanted something pretty to look at while she revised for her NEWTs. Hermione pretended like she didn't know what her friend was talking about, that she didn't have a hard time keeping her own eyes off of Draco, like it hadn't taken her _weeks_ to train herself not to blush when he smiled at her in that way he reserved only for her.

When they graduated, she- unable to return to parents who were furious with her, and he- unwilling to return to an ancestral home that did nothing but give him nightmares, decided to get a flat together. It was difficult at first, as far as her friends- and especially her boyfriend- were concerned. Apparently, it was one thing to be friendly with Draco, but quite another to move in with him. She had stood her ground. For the first time in more years than she cared to remember she felt safe and happy, and like she was where she belonged in that flat with Draco. As for her roommate, he had taken to simply burning the correspondence he received from his parents as soon as it arrived. He knew they were furious with all of his recent decisions but he couldn't bring himself to care.

They each started a mastery. She in arithmancy and he in potions. Ron and Harry continued their auror training on top of their work - rounding up the last of the Death Eaters. Aside from that, they had very little free time. Ginny complained bitterly about it, though she herself was busy in her first season as a Holyhead Harpies chaser. Hermione simply buried herself in her own studies alongside Draco. They were combining their two disciplines and if any of their theories panned out they would be doing some truly groundbreaking work. She tried not to think about what it meant that she didn't really miss Ron, though she did feel a sort of sadness deep in her soul that their relationship just seemed to be fading into the background with neither of them having the will or the energy to fight for it. Considering everything they'd been through together, that seemed wrong.

So, she was thrilled when he decided to take her on a weekend away. He made all the arrangements and wouldn't let her lift a finger. He simply informed her of the dates, the weather and what she could expect at their destination so that she could pack accordingly. She eagerly anticipated it for weeks. When the time came, she said goodbye to Draco with a kiss on the cheek, grabbed the portkey Ron had sent her, and popped away.

And then it all went spectacularly wrong.

Just hours before she left London her period arrived, a full four days early. It was annoying and would certainly put a damper on one part of their romantic weekend, but she wasn't too concerned. There were far more important things to consider. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd even set eyes on Ron in the past month She was really just looking forward to spending some time with him and reconnecting with him emotionally. That expectation was the beginning of a quick end.

She landed in front of a hotel, the smell of salt in the air told her she was at the coast but he was hauling her into his arms before she could really get her bearings. He hustled them both upstairs, and the moment they were inside the hotel room he was kissing her and backing her towards the bed.

"Ron, stop!"

He reared back immediately

"I'm not," she took a step away from him and resisted the urge to wipe her mouth, "I'm not really in the mood. We haven't even said hello."

His face fell but he quickly recovered. "Sorry, babe, I just got over enthusiastic. How are you? You look great!" He smiled crookedly at her.

She melted a little bit at the sight, he looked so like the boy she'd fallen for before the war had turned their lives into such an ugly mess. "Thanks." She smoothed her hands down her sides. "Do I need to change? What are our plans for the night?"

"Oh. Well, I thought we'd just _stay in_ ," he said with heavy emphasis, his eyes raking up and down her body.

She wanted to feel flattered, but she couldn't muster anything other than annoyance over his presumption. She took a deep breath. There was nothing wrong with spending the night in a hotel room with her boyfriend. She wanted to emotionally reconnect with him, after all. "Well, okay, dinner sounds nice. But, Ron, I'm really not up for anything else. I've started my period."

He balked. "I well, that, that kind of defeats the point, doesn't it?"

"The point of what?"

"This whole weekend."

Hermione froze. "Are you telling me the only reason for this weekend was to have sex?"

He looked sheepish for just a minute and then his gaze hardened. "Well why not? We've hardly seen each other in weeks."

She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. "Exactly Ronald! We haven't had any time to talk, to catch up. I wanted to spend some quality time together not just... _shag_."

"Well it doesn't matter now anyway, does it, since you're clearly...indisposed." His lips curled into an expression of disgust as he spoke. He looked at her like she'd just announced she'd been rolling around in manure.

"Is that all you care about?" She shrieked.

"Well, I think a bloke deserves some attention from his girlfriend every once in awhile. We haven't been together in months!"

"But I thought you planned this romantic weekend, I thought you wanted to see _me._ " She gasped as she felt the last of her connection to Ron fade away, her magic _recoiled_ at the thought of him.

And then she realized what was happening. Or what, more correctly, had happened months ago.

She screwed her eyes shut and took some deep breaths to center herself.

"Ron," she breathed, resisting the urge to reach for him, because as much as she knew what she was about to do was _right,_ it was also _painful_. "I've felt for awhile now that we weren't on the same page. But now I realize we're not even reading the same book."

She waited for the explosion, for the eruption of his Weasley temper. Instead, his posture slumped and then he looked at her and she could suddenly see how tired he was.

"This isn't working, is it?" He asked.

Her heart surged with affection for him even as it broke. "I appreciate you making this effort, Ron, but we've both known this has been over for awhile, haven't we?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, I thought a weekend away might-"

"You planned a weekend of sex to fix things and I planned on a weekend of talking," she interrupted.

"Something like that," he said with that easy smile that made her remember why she'd thought she could love him in the first place. But she didn't- at least not like _that._

She hiked her bag back up onto her shoulder. "I should go, but enjoy your weekend, Ron. Seriously, don't go back to work. Sleep in, order room service, you deserve a break."

"You could stay too, you know. We could just talk…" he trailed off awkwardly.

She surged forward and embraced him, so grateful for his friendship and understanding. "I think we need a little while to get used to how things have changed. But I'll happily pay for my half of the room."

He smiled, a real smile of amusement and bumped her shoulder with his. "I make quite a nice salary these days, and you're a broke student. I've got this, it was my idea after all."

She just smiled and let him have his way. She kissed his cheek and stepped back so that she could apparate safely.

"Feel better," he said awkwardly, eyeing the general area of her abdomen.

And suddenly she couldn't wait to get back to Draco. Draco who brought her hot water bottles every month and kept a certain type of dark chocolate just for her. Draco who was her support and comfort even when she didn't want anybody else. Just as she felt right now.

Oh.

 _Oh._

She was a fool.

She apparated away without another thought. And when she landed she tried to sneak from their designated apparition point to her bedroom without alerting him to her presence. She couldn't decide if she wanted to see him or if she wanted to hide away. She knew that he very well may have locked himself in his room with a book. Or, worse, gone out on one of his occasional dates that he didn't usually return from until the next morning. She couldn't judge, she'd just gone off on what was supposed to be a romantic weekend with her boyfriend. But her heart felt like it was being strangled at the thought of him with another woman.

She was halfway across the living room when his bedroom door flew open. "Granger?" He frowned at her from where he stood in his doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of loose pajama pants that sat low on his hips in a way that sent her brain reeling into fantasy territory.

"Hey," she said, making an effort to sound light, "sorry, but it looks like you won't have the flat to yourself after all this weekend."

"What happened?" He strode towards her, taking her hand in one of his and sliding her bag off of her shoulder with the other. "And if you say nothing I'm going to dose you with veritaserum because you'd obviously be lying."

She huffed out a breath and let him lead her over to one of the two sofas Draco had purchased for them, despite her vehement protestations against their cost. He flopped onto the luxurious leather, pulling her down beside him and slung an arm across her shoulders. She melted into his side. His warm, firm body and clean scent were a true homecoming.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

"Not really."

He didn't say anything, just pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

"Apparently I missed the memo that this was a sex weekend." He made a sound at the back of his throat that she couldn't quite identify. "Which would have been okay, I guess. But I started my period early and when I told him he made it quite clear that not only did that disgust him but that he had no other plans. No real interest in spending the weekend with me if he wasn't going to get laid."

"What an idiot."

"And then, I realized that he was trying to fix our non-existent relationship with sex, and I was trying to do it with a nice long talk and-" she laughed, "it's so ridiculous, we haven't been together for _months_. If we ever were."

"Lucky wanker," he murmured, almost too quietly for her to understand.

"'What?" She questioned.

He huffed out a breath and squeezed her to him. "Merlin, do you know what I'd do if you let me take you away for the weekend?"

She blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then she shifted in his arms to face him. "What does that mean?"

His mouth dropped open slightly and his breathing increased. He clutched her even more tightly against him for a moment before carefully pulling away. She felt his absence immediately and reached for him but he avoided her and instead captured her hands in his.

"I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"I wasn't subtle," he looked away and she got the feeling that he was no longer talking to her. "I wasn't even trying to be subtle," he murmured, avoiding her eye, "I wanted you to understand before we moved in together. I was okay with us just being friends but I- sweet Salazar, Hermione! Are you telling me you really don't know how I feel about you?"

It was like watching an elaborate set of dominoes fall. All of it had been there in front of her, but she just hadn't seen it clearly.

"Oh."

"Oh," he confirmed with a grim smile. He tried to disentangle himself from her, obviously aiming to give her some space.

She grasped both of his hands and pulled him back towards her. "I feel the same way, I'm just an idiot." How many times had she teased Harry about his lack of emotional acuity as she helped him purchase a gift for Ginny on an important day? And yet, here she was completely failing to recognize the feelings of the person who was dearest to her in the world.

His hands went lax in hers. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious. I already live with you," she smirked at him but then she sobered. " And I've been yours for a long time anyway."

His face went momentarily slack and then it morphed into an expression of such utter adoration.

"Well then I think it's more than time we gave this a try."


	6. Joined Forces: Part Two

**Author's Note: This is the second part of the last chapter. They were written in response to an ask on Tumblr and part of the request was smut. And this one is basically PWP so if that's not your thing just skip it and you won't be missing any of the meat of this little story. Thanks to Weestarmeggie for beta reading both parts.**

* * *

Hermione double checked to make sure that the food she'd ordered from his favorite restaurant was under a stasis spell. Arranged the cake that she'd spent half a day baking in the middle of the dining room table, and then she hurried to his room. She threw her robe aside and settled herself on his bed. He was due back any minute. She'd sent him an owl that morning telling him what time he should arrive home that evening in order to receive his birthday present. And if she knew anything about Draco, it was that he was prompt and that he loved gifts. He'd be right on time.

She glanced at the clock on his bedside table when she heard the front door to their flat open. Six o'clock on the dot. She smirked to herself.

"Hermione!" He called out.

"In your bedroom!"

"You're giving me my present in my bedroom?" He asked, and she could hear him getting closer as he spoke. He came to a startled halt in the doorway to his room, an amused smile frozen on his face.

"Happy birthday," she said, her voice sounded breathy to her own ears.

She was laid out on his bed wearing nothing but a skimpy set of lingerie. Scraps of red lace, really. The knickers were held together with ribbons tied at each hip and the bra by a large bow between her breasts. She thought it was quite festive. Normally, she knew that he would have prefered green, but something had told her that he would immensely enjoy peeling something in her house color _off_ of her. There wasn't another man in the world for whom she'd be so bold. And she knew that she was basically enacting a scene out of a bad romance novel, but the way Draco was looking at her- an expression which made her toes curl and her core clench- told her that he didn't care.

"I got us dinner. And, I do have an actual present for you as well. But I thought you might enjoy unwrapping me first."

He just stood there, breathing heavily, eyes dark and locked on her nearly naked form.

"Draco?" She said in a small voice, squirming under his gaze when he still didn't move.

That seemed to snap him out of his trance.

"Merlin." He raked a hand frantically through his hair. " _Fuck_."

In three swift strides he was standing next to the bed. "Are you sure, love? Because I don't think I'll be able to stop if you're not." He let out a long breath. " _What are you doing to me?_ "

It had been six weeks. Living and working and finally really _being_ together. But they hadn't taken that final step. She was more than sure.

She smiled up at him. She hoped it looked seductive but suspected it was just bright and happy. Because he made her so very happy. She reached out an arm for him and this time he didn't hesitate. He kicked off his shoes and crawled on top of her, covering her completely with his large body.

And then he was kissing her. She loved the way he kissed her, it was more intense than anything she'd ever experienced with any other wizard. And if the way he looked at her made her toes curl, the way he snogged her made her so wet that she had almost been ashamed the first time it happened. A few days before, while he was kissing her on the couch, he'd unbuttoned her blouse, unfastened her bra and then positively made a meal out of her. She'd almost begged him to take her right then and there, but she'd been determined to wait for his birthday.

He gave her one more drugging kiss and then pulled away to look at her. Her hands followed him automatically and tried to pull him back in. He laughed. "What did I ever do to deserve you? I want to savor this," he looked her up and down pointedly, "but I'm not sure I can wait another minute to be inside of you."

She bit her lip. "I'll put it back on later and you can make a thing of it," she promised. She couldn't wait another minute either. How she'd lasted six weeks, especially given his tendency to walk around their flat half dressed, she'd never know.

He grinned at her and sat back to kneel between her legs. He quickly unfastened his light linen summer robes and pulled them up and over his head. Next his trousers and underwear went all at once. She watched him carefully. The way he moved was fascinating to her, swift and precise but also elegant. It was like the way he brewed; an activity she'd never considered to be erotic until she'd watched Draco do it.

When his cock was revealed to her she automatically licked her lips. She'd always thought that the male genitalia looked rather odd. But everything about this man appealed to her, and the thought of that long, hard length inside of her had her squirming and attempting to rub her thighs together to relieve some of the tension. But, of course, he was situated in between them.

He quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "So it's like that, huh?" He questioned haughtily. And she was so far gone for him that even his arrogance was a turn on. He leaned over and gave her another kiss.

"You're beautiful and you know it," she murmured against his lips.

He reached down and she could feel the ties at each of her hips coming undone. When he reached between her legs to pull the lace out of his way he inhaled sharply. "Fuck, Hermione you're so wet." He discarded the knickers off the side of the bed and then carefully worked two fingers inside of her.

"Oh yes," she sighed happily. "That's what you do to me," she confessed, wanting to reward him for making her feel so good.

"Is that so?" He asked, reaching up with his free hand and untying the bow between her breasts. The material fell open, revealing her completely to him. He looked at her expectantly.

Oh, so he wanted to play?

"Yes," she worked the fingers of one hand through his hair and guided his mouth to one of her aching nipples. He eagerly took it between his lips and began to suck it gently. "I was wet before you even got here, I got wet just _thinking_ about you."

"Hmmm," he responded and the vibration the sound created went straight to her clit.

She cried out and felt him grin, then switch to her other breast. She arched up into him.

"What, specifically, were you thinking about me?" He asked, never pulling his mouth away from her tender flesh.

"Your mouth on my tits, actually," she explained with a breathy little laugh. She never would have thought that she enjoyed dirty talk before Draco, but now she knew that she'd been missing out on a lot before Draco. And she knew that he liked that word.

She wasn't disappointed. He gave her nipple one hard suck at the same time he curled his fingers inside of her and dragged his thumb over her clit. She screamed as she came. It was so sudden and the sensation exploded from her cunt all the way to the top of her head. Through the tips of her fingers and toes; more intense than anything else she'd ever experienced. Her body almost ached with it.

When she regained her bearings, she opened her eyes to see him; his smile was gentle but his eyes were intense, even a little wild. His fingers were still inside of her, stroking her carefully and somehow it made her feel blissfully languid- but also began to wind her back up.

She sighed and reached up to run her hands down his back. He was all lean, taut muscle, so male, so different from her soft curvy form. "I thought you couldn't wait to be inside of me?"

He laughed. "I think you more than earned that. But if that's an invitation?"

"Absolutely." She spread her legs wider to accommodate him.

He removed his fingers and she almost keened at the loss. But then he was there, his chest pressed against hers and his cock nudging at her slit.

"Draco, please," she whined, almost drowsily. This was all just so _delicious._

Slowly he eased inside of her. He was treating her so carefully. Not like she was fragile but like she was precious. And she knew that to him, she was.

"Oh Draco," she sighed at the way he filled her and then just stopped as they clung to each other, to allow them both to fully appreciate the feeling of finally being physical.

"Hermione," he said in return, skimming his fingertips along the curve of her waist.

She shivered at the barely-there sensation. "Please move, I want to feel...everything."

"As my lady wishes," he said as he leaned in for a slow thorough kiss, and then began to thrust in and out of her as just as slowly and thoroughly.

She looped her arms around his shoulders in an effort to bring him as close as possible and started to move her hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to move even faster.

"You perfect witch." He reached between her and the mattress, and placed a hand on the small of her back to hold her in place and then he turned them over. Suddenly, she was on his lap, straddling his waist and he was even deeper inside of her.

"Oh!" She gasped and her head fell to the crook of his neck.

"Darling, look at me. I want to watch you come undone."

She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, as his hands went to her hips and he guided her movements. She suddenly realized she loved this position. He was still _right there_ , their torsos pressed together, but he was _so deep_. Every once in awhile he would dip his head and take a nipple into his mouth, then accompany the move with a particularly hard thrust, and his pubic bone hit her clit perfectly every time.

It all served to turn her into a writhing mess in minutes, clinging to him and begging unintelligibly. But, as he had demanded, she kept her eyes open and locked on his face.

"Come for me," he said, his tone brokering no argument. Her body was desperate to comply and for the second time that evening her orgasm took her by surprise. If he hadn't been holding her so firmly she was certain that she could easily have bucked off of his lap. "Fuck, that was gorgeous," she heard him say as he nipped and sucked at her jawline, still thrusting up into her, "I'm going to come now," he warned her. And then she _felt_ him pulsing inside of her releasing his seed into her and prolonging her own ecstacy.

"Oh!" she cried out in surprise again as she clutched at him.

The next few minutes were somewhat of a blur as he-regrettably- pulled out of her and then she felt him perform a cleansing charm on her. Gently as ever, he arranged her onto her side and spooned up behind her. He brushed her hair aside and nuzzled at her neck.

"I love you." He placed a kiss just beneath her ear.

"I love you too." She reached back and grasped his thigh, pulling his leg over both of hers, begrudging the small distance between them already.

For a long time they just lay in silence, basking in the other's presence and the joy they'd just created together.

"Can I have my present now?" He eventually asked, skimming the tip of his nose along the curve of her cheek.

She couldn't help but laugh. The question was so very _Malfoy_ of him. "Sure," she said, and tried to pull herself out of his arms. He stopped her with a hand on her hip.

"No, just wait." And she watched in confusion as he climbed out of bed and made his way over to his discarded robes. He rummaged through them for a moment, and then he stood up and came back to bed. She eyed him curiously, but whatever he'd retrieved was completely ensconced in one of his large hands. He eased her onto her back and then placed a small velvet box on her stomach.

She felt her eyes go wide and she whipped her head up to look at him. "Draco…" She heard a click and looked back down to see that he'd flicked the box open to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring she'd ever seen.

"You're so weird about me buying you things. So, I was hoping that for _my_ birthday you would accept this without protest. And that you would agree to be my wife." He was smiling at her but his eyes were grave and uncertain.

Her hand went to her mouth and she looked between him and the jewelry box he'd perched on her navel.

He cupped her face tenderly and those beautiful stormy eyes softened. "This is the only thing that could be better than the present you just gave me. Please Hermione, I love you, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to _make_ love to you for the rest of my life."

She was flabbergasted. Technically they'd only been together for six weeks. But, then again, she'd known from the moment she agreed to give their relationship a try that she was in this for the long haul. So, yes, she was surprised, but there really was only one answer she could possibly give him.

"Yes, of course, yes!"

He beamed at her and- with shaking hands- he removed the ring from the box and placed it on her finger. They both admired it for a moment before he kissed her. This one was long and sweet and filled with the promise of _forever_.

Finally, they parted and he cuddled her close. Sated and happy they started to drift off to sleep, but just before they did she murmured: "Happy birthday, Draco."


	7. Not-So-Well-Meaning Interference

She was fully convinced that Lucius Malfoy was the most arrogant, officious, son of a bitch in magical Britain. Maybe even all of Europe. And his wife may have been worse. Too bad they were also one of the richest couples in the country, because that meant she had to be nice to them.

They were actually surpassed in wealth by their own son, who was also heir to the infamous Black fortune on top of the vast amounts of money he had control of as the Malfoy scion. But Malfoy the younger had acquired actual responsibilities in the aftermath of the war. He ran his family's corporation and managed their estates because the terms of Lucius' probation did not allow him to do it any longer. Which left the elder Malfoys free to host fancy parties and throw their money around in an attempt to get society to forget that they'd been on the wrong side of the war, while their son did all the actual work. And she had to play the part of one of the gracious recipients of this blatant strong arming.

It was a shame because, by all accounts, and from her own experience, Draco had turned into a decent human being. They interacted fairly regularly at social events and she knew it wouldn't be such a chore for her if _he_ was the Malfoy who wanted to fund an event to raise money for creature rights. But here she was instead, across the table from his parents who somehow managed to look down their noses at her even while seated at the same level.

They must have been pretty desperate, using their money to host a fundraiser for the Ministry department that had ensured the passage of a law that forced them to treat their house elves like sentient creatures and not punching bags- a department headed by Hermione Granger, nonetheless. Because it was obvious- they really made no effort to hide it- that their opinion of her had not changed one iota. She was still an uppity mudblood in their minds, worse actually; an uppity mudblood who had been awarded the highest honor their society bestowed- the Order of Merlin- while they had barely escaped a stay in Azkaban.

Why they insisted on being involved in planning the event in addition to simply funding it, she couldn't possibly imagine, as it seemed to be causing them physical pain to sit in these meetings with her. But she couldn't very well tell them that they couldn't be. Kingsley had sat in on the first meeting, ostensibly because the amount of money involved had gotten the attention of the Minister himself, but really it was a not-so-subtle reminder that she had his support and was to be treated with respect. But after that she'd told him she could handle it on her own, she didn't want them to think they frightened or intimidated her. And honestly, the Minister of Magic had better things to do.

So today it was just the blond couple, herself, and her assistant who, unfortunately, was quite obviously intimidated by them. Hermione was keeping her own notes because she could tell the girl was struggling to keep up in the face of such thinly veiled disdain. Hermione determined to cut her some slack, she was usually an excellent assistant and she was actually happy that not everybody was as used to being as openly despised as she was. Caroline was a half-blood who'd been sent abroad during the worst part of the war and Hermione was glad that not everybody she knew had had their childhood sacrificed to it.

It seemed like they'd been in the room for an interminable period, but it had really only been twenty minutes. Lucius Malfoy was droning on self-importantly, and she was scribbling down what he was saying just so she had an excuse not to look at him, when suddenly his wife interrupted.

"I was thinking we could hold it in the ballroom in the east wing, it's smaller, of course, but I think we should be aiming for an air of exclusivity."

Alarm bells started going off in Hermione's brain and her head shot up to look at the woman. "Excuse me Lady Malfoy, but the ballroom of the east wing, _where_?"

"Why the Manor, of course. I wouldn't dream of having it anywhere else."

The Manor.

The Manor.

 _Malfoy Manor_.

Her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat. She dropped her quill as the sounds of her own screaming started to fill her head.

And then there was another person in the room yelling, the slam of a door, a cool hand on the back of her neck, gently pressing her head down between her knees, and a voice she recognized but couldn't quite place telling her to breathe. She grabbed onto that voice like a life raft, matched her breaths to the rhythm of it as he- he? Yes, it was definitely a male voice talking her through what she now recognized as a panic attack.

That night at Malfoy Manor hadn't even been the worst of her life, but the memory of it triggered her the most viscerally. The slightest mention of it could send her reeling. Her friends knew which subjects to avoid, and while she doubted Narcissa Malfoy knew she'd have such a strong reaction, Hermione was still sure that she'd had malicious intentions in making the suggestion. She was so rigidly (if falsely) polite in everything she did. Hermione could tell she prided herself on her manners. So it couldn't have escaped her notice that it was gauche- at best- to name the place of somebody'd brutal torture in casual conversation, much less suggest they revisit that place. What a bitch.

Finally, she'd gotten herself together enough to look up and into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, who was kneeling before her. She blinked in confusion and studied him as she tried to figure out what had just happened. When had the two older Malfoys been swapped for her former classmate? Draco looked so much like his father, and yet so different. Beautiful really, in a way that Lucius could have been, if he wasn't so terrible. But the resemblance didn't bother Hermione. In fact, she realized that she was relieved to see him, as unbelievable as that may have seemed.

"Draco?" She questioned, and for some reason just that simple utterance of his name made him smile more broadly than she'd ever seen before; she really liked it.

"Hey," he said gently and she felt him squeeze her knees, she looked down in surprise to see his large hands resting lightly on her legs. "I'm sorry Granger, I got home early and when the elves told me where my parents were, I hoped to get here before they did something to upset you, but then I walked in and you looked like you'd just faced a dementor."

"It was a panic attack," she corrected. He'd witnessed it, there was no reason to prevaricate.

"Oh I _know_ , believe me I've had my fair share of them. I'm just sorry my parents triggered it. Should I get somebody for you, Potter or Weasley maybe? I can't imagine my presence is much better for you right now."

She tamped down her surprise at his admission and just shook her head, clamping down on the hands on her thighs with her own. "It's passed and they will just worry and hover for weeks, it's so annoying," she grimaced. He laughed quietly. "And you're not bothering me at all, you made it better actually."

"I'm glad." His voice was so low and gentle, as smooth and lovely as always, but also different.

Wait, what? Smooth and lovely? What was she thinking?

"It wasn't even your parents, not really," she felt the oddest need to reassure him. "This wasn't our first meeting and I've been fine at the other ones. Do you know why they were here?"

He nodded. "It was my bloody idea," he practically growled and she frowned at his sudden change of demeanor.

"Then you know about the fundraiser?"

He nodded.

"Your mother mentioned that she wanted to hold it at Malfoy Manor." She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. "I'd be ever so grateful if you could do what you can to talk her out of it, I just...can't."

Draco's mouth dropped open and he just stared at her before he leapt to his feet. "Fucking hell!" He practically yelled. She jumped and he immediately knelt down before her again. "Oh Merlin, Granger I'm so sorry! I can't believe she did that! I love my mother, but I'm well aware of the fact that she can be a right bitch- but I didn't realize she could be that much of a bitch." That echo of the own earlier thought startled a laugh out of her. "You have my word though, you won't have to get anywhere near Wiltshire much less the Manor. We have plenty of other properties to choose from or we could always have it here. Also, you won't have to deal with them anymore, I'll be taking over all the preparations in their place." He hesitated, looking very unsure and very unlike Draco Malfoy as he did so. "That is, if you don't mind dealing with me?"

She didn't even need to think about it, she felt completely comfortable with him and he was infinitely preferable to his parents. "No, of course not."

"And you have my sincerest apologies. There is no excuse for their behavior or the fact that they've been using our money as leverage to be able to terrorize you all over again. And I feel like I especially need to apologize because this is actually all my fault."

"How could this possibly be your fault?"

"I-" he swiped a hand down his face. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

"Oh Merlin, of course not Malfoy! I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

He chuckled as he dragged a chair over and sat in it, knee to knee with her. "It's okay, this is a rather unusual situation." He took a deep breath. "I feel like a third year Gryffindor," he murmured.

She raised her eyebrows in response.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just that this kind of forthrightness is really not in my nature, so if I muck it up I hope you'll grant me some leeway." He shot her a playful grin.

She giggled. Had he always been this amusing?

"The thing is that I like you," he said.

"You like me?" She asked dumbly.

"Yes." He took a breath and rolled his eyes in a way that was clearly meant to express annoyance with himself. "That is to say that I'm interested in you in a way I haven't been interested in a witch in a long time."

"Oh," she gasped without meaning to, but he couldn't have surprised her more if he'd burst into this boardroom throwing unforgivables.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Is that really so hard to believe?" Then he waved his hand to stop her before she could say anything- not that she knew how she would have responded regardless. "Nevermind, I know it's surprising to say the least, I won't pretend our history isn't what it is. That's why I'd planned to go about this carefully."

"I don't understand. What does this have to do with your parents?"

"I told them that I wanted to host an event to fundraise for your department. But I stupidly thought that for once they might be willing to put my happiness above their outdated beliefs. So, I didn't even try to hide it from them that I wanted to take a hands on approach in planning the event because I wanted to spend that time with _you_ , to get to know _you_ better and see if maybe you could see past that wretched history of ours. But then, almost as soon as I told them my plans a problem with our suppliers in Japan popped up and I scarpered off to Asia for a month, leaving you completely at their mercy."

Hermione just stared at him as she absorbed this information. Then, she couldn't help it, she began to laugh. He looked caught somewhere between being about to start laughing himself, and being hurt by her reaction.

"I'm sorry," she said, unconsciously reaching out to take one of his hands. When she realized what she had done she looked down at her hand clasped in his much larger one and was surprised by how much she liked the sight. So, experimentally, she twisted her hand in his so that she could entwine their fingers and then gave his a squeeze. She liked that even better. "It's just honestly kind of flattering that they went through all this trouble in an attempt to try and scare me off."

She watched in fascination as his cheeks went slightly pink and he ducked his head, but he rubbed the thumb of his free hand across her knuckles affectionately. "Did it work? Are you completely put off?"

"Not at all." His eyes flew to hers. "They forgot that I'm a Gryffindor and when somebody tries to intimidate me, I just grow more determined."

He let out a long breath. "In that case, would you maybe be interested in getting out of here and having some dinner? We can talk about whatever you were _supposed_ to be discussing with my parents."

She bit her lip and nodded. "I'd like that."

He stood up, pulling her with him. "And maybe over dinner I can talk you into attending this thing we're planning with me, when the time comes."

She took his offered arm. "This is going to be a big fancy gala, Mr. Malfoy, that's a big commitment. I think I'm going to need a few more dinners before I agree to that," she said with a smirk.

He smirked right back. "I think that can be arranged."


	8. Cinderella

She was fairly sure this is what it felt like to be drunk. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of Draco Malfoy- who was admittedly a little blurry around the edges at the moment- and thinking about how _pretty_ he was. Handsome too, gorgeous really, but also pretty in a way that most men couldn't claim.

Neither Harry nor Ron deserved the adjective, though they had both become good looking wizards in their own ways. But Draco's features were just so refined, his face lovely, his stature elegant, and she was sure there were many witches who would be jealous of his hair, herself included; her mane was as unmanageable as ever. She was still certain he hadn't been a particularly attractive child, his features too pointy, his face constantly set into a scowl, and that's not even taking his atrocious attitude into consideration, which had made him ugly in a completely different way. But he'd grown up without her seeming to notice.

She was noticing now, now that everything was different, now that she'd been to hell and back and she was noticing a lot of things she'd never noticed before. Apparently a war and a couple of glasses of firewhiskey were all it took for her to see that Draco Malfoy, the bully who had once been the bane of her existence, Death Eater, and pureblood snob, was also mouth wateringly, knicker wettingly, attractive. Of course, the fact that she was sitting in his rooms sharing a bottle of firewhiskey with him was proof that the world had turned upside down, so maybe the alcohol wasn't to blame.

"Granger!" He said sharply, she startled.

When she focused back on him his features had morphed into a sly smirk. Once upon a time she'd have have been tempted to slap the expression off of his face. Now she just found it, Merlin help her, sexy. She also had a terrible feeling that hadn't been the first time he'd tried to get her attention, which meant he'd caught her staring.

"What?" She asked warily.

"Do I have something on my face or are you just enjoying the view."

She sighed, was there any point in denying it? She suspected she normally would have been more bothered to be called out, but at the moment she just felt so nice and floaty.

"It's a good view," she said, propping her elbow on the back of the sofa they were sharing and then resting her head on her hand nonchalantly.

His smirk turned into a playful smile. "I did not think you were going to admit that."

"I'm a Gryffindor," she shrugged, keeping up her nonchalant act, "and come on, it's not like you don't already know you're bloody breathtaking."

Oops, that was more than she'd intended to admit. She was definitely drunk. Though, it was almost worth it to watch his composure slip. His mouth dropped open and he blinked rapidly at her, though after just a few seconds the sexy smirk was back.

"Right back atcha, Granger," he said, locking eyes with her.

She snorted and leaned forward to whack him on the arm, the firewhiskey sloshing around dangerously in the glass in her other hand.

"I know it's approaching midnight but don't turn back into a prat, we've been getting along so well."

He frowned and opened his mouth.

"That probably didn't make any sense to you did it?" She asked before he could actually say anything and then plowed on before he could answer, "It's a reference to a muggle children's story called Cinderella. Which Ronald thought was a disease, by the way." She scoffed.

"Weasley, be mistaken about something? I'm shocked," he drawled.

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. "You see there was this ball, and Cinderella wanted to go to the ball but she didn't have a dress or a way to get there. Well, she had a dress, but her stepmother and stepsisters destroyed it because they didn't want Cinderella to go to the ball," she babbled, "but then her Fairy Godmother showed up and made her a dress and a carriage out of a pumpkin, but she had to be gone by midnight because that's when her dress would turn back to rags and her carriage back into a pumpkin. Actually, come to think of it, Fairy Godmother wasn't a very powerful witch..." she was contemplating this new understanding of a childhood favorite and was about to start telling him about the glass slipper when he interrupted her.

"Granger, honestly I didn't catch any of that. I just want to know why you called me a prat. In my experience, witches like to be told they're beautiful. Now, I know you're far from a typical witch- and I mean that in all the best ways- but surely even you don't object to a compliment."

She rolled her eyes. "Not if you meant it, but nobody would ever describe me as breathtaking and you've made your opinion about my looks clear on several occasions anyway. I don't especially like being made fun of," she said a bit prissily, as she always did when she was feeling defensive.

She thought she saw something flash briefly across his face but she didn't know him well enough to read it.

"I'd feel insulted but I guess you really don't have any reason to trust my word. Not yet, at least, I do hope to change that."

"What?" she asked, feeling like her muddled brain wasn't properly following the conversation.

"I used to be an idiot, I mean I think that's true of a lot of 14 year old boys, but I realize I was a particularly large idiot."

She snorted, this time in amusement.

"My beliefs about your blood status kept me from seeing you clearly, that's no longer a problem. I caught you staring at me because you're drunk, and because you're a Gryffindor with no subtlety, you didn't catch me staring for the same reasons."

"You've been staring at me?" She asked him disbelievingly.

"All night," he confirmed with a sly smile.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice.

"Looking at a beautiful woman isn't a chore," he said with a wry chuckle.

She felt her face flame and averted her eyes.

"How is it possible that you are so insecure about this? You almost just single handedly won a war. You've been splashed all over the pages of the Daily Prophet for months, everybody loves you."

"None of that is real Malfoy, you know better than almost anybody. People can turn on you so quickly. Adulation becomes derision at the drop of a hat. I don't take any of it seriously."

"Okay, fine," he conceded, "how about we test it then?"

"Test it?"

"Well if I understood your little story, if I'm really being a prat at midnight I'll turn into a pumpkin." He sat up a little straighter, obviously proud of his reasoning.

She just stared at him, and then burst out laughing.

But when he was still human at midnight she rewarded him with a kiss.


	9. Drinking Games and Banana Peels

**Another Tumblr prompt (I fear those may be coming to an end) "Everyone else had already left."**

* * *

Hermione returned to consciousness slowly- until it unfortunately came back all was once; the drinking games, the amount of liquor she'd stupidly consumed in one evening, and she sat up straight, her head swimming.

That bastard. She was going to kill him. Maybe literally.

"Everyone else has already left," his voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Malfoy?"

"What's that?" He peered at her from where he was lying indolently across an armchair, and if she hadn't known him better, his position would have appeared completely guileless. But because she did, it made her want to punch him in the face. He'd been waiting for her to wake up.

She got up and made her way over to him. "You got me drunk and then drove everyone away so that you could face me one on one? That's a new low, even for you." She was scrambling to find her bearings but she managed to poke him several hard times in the chest.

"The truth is important, don't you think?" His voice was a sing-song, it made her want to hit him again- harder- but she resisted. She'd probably just cut herself on the sharp angles of his face.

Bastard.

"The truth?" She asked, trying to think through her foggy brain, plopping back down on the sofa.

"I am the Mario Kart King," he declared, puffing out his chest, apparently unaffected, as she eyed him from across the room. "You are a mere pretender to the crown."

She scoffed out loud. "I taught you everything you know."

"Maybe at first, but now I've usurped you."

"Bullshit, you're nothing but a coward," she hissed, "you got me drunk and drove everybody away so that they couldn't see you crash and burn!"

"No," he clarified, "even stakes. I have a hangover potion," he shook a vial in her direction with a smirk, so sure of himself. "Winner gets to choose breakfast and bragging rights with no argument from the loser on either count."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Hand me the controller and bring it on."


	10. Cinderella 2

_This is the follow-up to chapter 8 of this collection, if the title didn't give that away. But all you really need to know is that Draco and Hermione are in an established relationship and are watching the 1950 Disney version of 'Cinderella'_

* * *

Draco tried to keep his mouth shut. He really, really did. Because he had finally learned to recognize a good thing when he had it, and he didn't want to ruin it over something foolish, like inadvertently insulting something his girlfriend obviously loved. Especially given that the aforementioned girlfriend, Hermione Granger, was not one to be taken for granted.

And that was on top of the fact that she had been so excited to show him this thing she called a 'movie'. When she turned it on her face had positively glowed with happiness. It was enchanting, and he hadn't wanted to spoil that.

Also, he was trying desperately to make a good impression. They were at Hermione's parents' house, and it was more than obvious that they did not think very highly of him. They were almost giving his own parents a run for their money on the disapproval front. Not that he could really blame them, they had plenty of good reasons to distrust him. It had been made clear to him that he had a long way to go before he earned their blessing. And he was frankly surprised that they'd left him alone with their daughter long enough to even watch the movie, so he certainly hadn't wanted to make a scene.

The beginning had actually been fairly fascinating; watching the way the muggles had somehow turned a series of drawings into a moving picture had quickly captured his attention. It was ingenious, if he was being really honest. Which had only added to the feeling of being overwhelmed, a feeling he'd experienced quite often since he'd become involved with Hermione.

How wrong he'd been about muggles. It was humiliating and depressing. Once Hermione had consented to be in a relationship with him he'd quickly realized how much he had to learn, but had- grudgingly- accepted that fact, she was more than worth it. It didn't hurt that she was the world's most beautiful tour guide into this foreign land.

So, for awhile, he had been preoccupied enough to ignore the talking mice, and the birds acting as lady's maids, and the way the characters burst into song for no apparent reason. But he had his limits. And those limits took the form of a plump old woman in periwinkle robes who was most certainly not a fairy, but who insisted on calling herself a fairy godmother, and who also made a mockery of magic in a way that made Draco twitchy.

"Bibbity-bobbity-boo!"

If asked later, he would have said that he couldn't help himself when he leapt off the sofa, glaring at his girlfriend, and that he had simply run out of patience when the cartoon woman uttered that nonsensical magical spell.

"Granger, is this a joke? Because on behalf of all wizarding kind, I am offended!"

"What?" She asked, ripping her attention away from the so-called 'television', obviously startled by his outburst.

"This!" He gestured towards the screen. "No wonder muggles fear us if this is the kind magic they think we possess. Does this woman have any real control over herself?" He ranted.

Hermione just stared at him for several moment and then she started to laugh, and he must have looked offended because she made an effort to control her mirth, but she continued to grin at him.

"What?" He couldn't help but gristle even as he paced in front of her, still out of sorts.

"Nothing, it's just that I love you."

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at her. "What?" Surely he hadn't heard her correctly. But that didn't keep his heart from feeling as if it had stopped, and he longed to reach for her but was too afraid.

She hesitated, but then raised her chin and, like a typical Gryffindor, continued on. "You're just so great. I know this has been trying your patience, but you've been holding your temper for me," she explained with a smile, reaching for him from her seat on the couch.

"No, the other part, Hermione," he insisted.

She dipped her head, laughing quietly, and then she raised her face to look at him again with a smile. "You mean that I love you?"

"That's the important part, my love," he smiled at her in return, unable to believe his good luck, falling back onto the couch next to her.

"Your love?"

"Is it that difficult to believe that I feel the same way?" He scoffed.

"Wow- I yes, it is," she responded, her mouth hanging open, before finally leaning in for a kiss, and he could feel her body was vibrating with emotion.

He heard her tight, hoping she'd somehow absorb the emotion which he couldn't verbalize. "Is there a way muggles celebrate these things?" He asked, hoping that she'd find some way that they could spend some time- truly alone- together as she settled herself under his arm.

"Not really," she chuckled, cutting her eyes at him knowingly, "though you'll probably want to speak to my father eventually, if you want to make this official, and you really need to see the part about the glass slipper," she explained, picking up the remote control (which was a wand, without really being a wand, and Draco was still deciding if that fascinated or terrified him) and adjusting the settings on the movie.

And when it was over he still didn't know if he loved or hated it. It had been ridiculous. But it had also been the impetus for the happiest moment of his life.

He took a breath and raked a hand over his face as he watched Hermione's curls bounce in time to the music at the end of the film, realizing that he was going to be watching that Professor Sprout wannabe in periwinkle robes for the next century- at least. But instead of fleeing in response to the initial fear he felt, he pulled her closer to him.

"A shoe is an incredibly inaccurate way to find a woman," he eventually commented, kissing her forehead.

"It's just a story, Draco." She shot him an indulgent smile, but he could tell that she was grateful for his patience.

He took her point. But just to be certain her engagement ring, which he presented her with just a few months later, was enchanted with all matter of location and protective magic. He wasn't taking his chances with something as delicate as a glass slipper.


	11. Muggle Studies

Hermione had tucked herself out of the way of the crowd. Her attendance at this fundraiser had seemed important. It was for the new children's wing at St. Mungo's, an extremely worthy cause in her opinion, and yet she had no desire to be here. None of her close friends had been able to attend and so it had become a chore.

She knew that hiding somewhat defeated the purpose of her own attendance, but she just didn't care. She was sipping a glass of wine and hoping people would continue to overlook her until enough time had passed that she could give herself permission to slip out when she heard it.

She recognized his distinctive drawl before she even caught a glimpse of his equally distinctive hair.

"Hiding, Granger? That's not very Gryffindor of you."

Her right hand twitched instinctively. There was a time when she would not have considered facing this particular wizard without her wand at the ready. But it had been years since she had any reason to fear him, so instead of reaching for it, she turned to face him and all of his smug Malfoy glory. She was slightly disconcerted that he'd gotten so close without her noticing, but she didn't allow that to show.

"And yet it's _very_ Slytherin of you, Malfoy, to sneak up on me like that. So, at least one of us is staying true to form. Except, of course, that you just spoke to me without using any insults, so maybe not so much," she said with a coy smile. Even she couldn't be sure if she was taunting or teasing him.

"I did insult you, I made fun of you for hiding!" He protested; but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away, and then he smirked at her, not a hint of a sneer, almost a smile. Was he actually teasing her in return?

"No," she corrected, "you said I wasn't acting like a Gryffindor. That's practically a compliment coming from you," she countered.

"Always did have a feisty mouth on you, Granger," he shot back.

She raised one eyebrow at him and worked to control her expression so that she wouldn't gape like a fish. "Malfoy, I swear, if you start chatting me up I'm going to think that you're actually a polyjuiced version of this guy from the Ministry who can't take a hint."

And then he laughed and she began to wonder if somebody actually had slipped something into her drink; because she hadn't consumed enough alcohol to explain these apparent hallucinations. Or, maybe, this _was_ somebody else disguised with polyjuice potion.

"Well if he thinks polyjuicing himself as me is the way to finally get a date with you, then no wonder he can't take a hint, he's clearly the densest bloke on the planet. Everybody knows that we've been mortal enemies since day one at Hogwarts," Malfoy finished with a certain amount of sarcasm.

She found herself amused that he also seemed to think that their schoolyard rivalry had been over inflated in the press following the war.

"Although," he continued, tapping his chin with a finger and pretending to think, "I'm so incredibly good looking that maybe he thought even you couldn't resist my charms."

"Don't count on it," she deadpanned, biting back a smile. She knew how to handle Malfoy arrogance.

"Lucky for me that isn't why I came over here," he responded easily, as if her brush off hadn't bothered him at all.

"So why did you come over here?" she inquired.

Now that she was pretty sure he hadn't gone out of his way to speak to her just to insult her, or try to get under her skin, she was honestly curious. In the four and a half years since the war they'd seen each other often enough. Usually at events like these which she attended as a member of said famed Golden Trio, lending her name to causes she believed in, whilst he tried to rebuild his family's name with large donations.

But they'd never exchanged more than a polite nod, and she'd assumed his pride would never allow him to approach her voluntarily, even if he no longer hated her. However, perhaps she'd misjudged him, most of what she knew about him was speculation, after all; speculation based on years of observation, but speculation nonetheless, and that gave her pause.

"Fair enough," he murmured, but then visibly gathered himself, squaring his shoulders and looking her in the eyes. "I've wanted to talk to Potter's secret weapon for awhile now, but you're rarely without your two bodyguards. Since you're alone tonight I thought this was my best chance of doing it without getting hexed," he explained.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she tried to translate that somewhat cryptic statement. "And by Potter's secret weapon, you mean me?"

"Yes."

"I can handle them," she sniffed, insulted by his implication.

"Oh, I _know_ you can," he chuckled, "but there would be a scene. I try to avoid those these days, especially any that would involve the Golden Trio."

She felt an instinctive need to defend her friends. "If you were nice to me-" she began.

"They still wouldn't want me anywhere near you," he interrupted firmly, "like I said, I see the way they look at me."

"You have a point," she admitted, "though I suppose it's moot, as they aren't here tonight, which was your point to begin with," she sighed. "So, what is this about Harry's secret weapon? What is that you want?"

"You're the real power behind Potter in the Wizengamot. You forget that I went to school with you. As much as it pains me to say this, he's not an idiot, but you were always the brains in that group. Potter shouldn't know anything about pureblood politicking. He was raised by muggles, and yet he's handling it remarkably well."

Hermiome felt her hackles rise, and just as she'd begun to relax. "In case you've somehow forgotten, I was also raised by muggles," she shot back.

"Yes, but again, I went to school with you, so I know that you actually know how to research, and how to do it discreetly, if necessary. On top of which, some of the moves he's pulled to get others on his side have been downright Slytherin in nature. Potter's as subtle as a bludger. I don't think he's your puppet or anything that extreme, but you are the reason he's been so successful. It's impressive what the two of you have accomplished."

She gaped at him, both because that sounded suspiciously like a compliment, and because they'd worked hard to disguise her involvement with Harry's work in the Wizengamot. It was his family's seat and he needed to appear to be in charge, not to mention that many old school purebloods would have balked at her being involved at all. But Malfoy was right, Harry had needed assistance. He hadn't even known the procedures that were regularly used in the chamber in the beginning. Without her, he would have been a figurehead at best- representative of the fact that the Light had won and he had conquered to take his ancestral seat, as he was born to do- but he wouldn't have gotten any of his own initiatives heard, much less passed.

"Don't worry," he assured her before she could decide how to respond, "I won't tell anybody. I mean you're not doing anything wrong as it is, members are certainly allowed advisors and Potter's doing the actual voting which is really all that's required of him, but I understand that it wouldn't be good for his image, and he may very well lose much of the prestige he's built if everybody knew exactly how much he depended on his golden girl."

She started to feel slightly sick, had he just come over here to tell her how much he knew, to issue veiled threats? What could he possibly want? He'd been so pleasant, and the disappointment she now felt made her realize that she'd believed him genuine, that she'd started to hope that people could change and that she'd found proof. Her thoughts must have been all over her face because he sighed.

"I said I wasn't going to say anything, and I meant it," he reached over to touch her shoulder gently, the Malfoy she'd known at Hogwarts wouldn't have risked tainting himself by coming so close, and this maneuver lent credibility to his claim, but he was still a Malfoy, and she couldn't help but suspect that he still he had an agenda, "seriously Granger, who would believe that _I_ have inside information about Harry Potter?"

She gave a little laugh, he made a good point. Though, the press were unscrupulous and you never knew what they'd print and how they'd spin it to make it seem real.

"So, you searched me out to compliment me?" she asked dubiously, "are you sure you don't want something that you thought you'd have a better chance of getting if you complimented me first?"

She eyed him speculatively, he met her gaze without hesitation.

"You really could have been a Slytherin," he was smirking furiously again.

"We both know my blood is far too dirty for that to have been possible," she snapped, betraying a bitterness she usually worked hard to mask.

Her anger was sudden and it surprised even her, but before her stood a man who had mistreated her since the moment he met her and she just couldn't shake the suspicion that he was up to something. He'd thrown her off kilter, she felt a bit like a cornered animal and she didn't like it at all.

"Which is our weakness as a house," he said testily, "whereas Gryffindor's is to rush in before they know all the facts, or any facts at all for that matter."

"I'm making a perfectly logical deduction, Malfoy," she hissed, not missing his dig at her own house. "What do you want me to do? Seem friendly with you in front of the press? Maybe we go on a few outings to prove we've really made amends? I know how much you've been trying to rebuild your family's reputation, what better way to do that than to make nice with the mudblood war hero!"

He flinched and his eyes flashed and she knew she'd stepped over a line. Truthfully she'd stepped over her own line. He always had gotten to her quite easily, ever since they were children, and only now that she toppled over it did she notice just how on edge she'd been this entire conversation. She hadn't realized the level of resentment she still felt towards Malfoy.

"Nevermind," he ground out, jaw clenched, "I guess I misjudged you."

He spun to leave and his fury and palpable disappointment in her felt like a physical blow. It was what she hated most, disappointing people. Usually it was the people she respected whose expectations she wanted to meet, but for some reason, in this moment, it was just as painful to feel as if she'd failed Malfoy.

"Malfoy wait," she said as she grabbed his arm and turned him gently back around, "I'm sorry. It's just that we've never even had a civil conversation, so I assumed you were up to something, but it wasn't fair to judge you like that. Especially because you've been nothing but polite to me for years."

" _Why_ would you use that word?" he looked at her searchingly.

"It doesn't mean the same thing to me as it does to you," she explained with a sigh, "but I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I promised myself I would never use it for shock value like that. It's not any better than using it for real."

"I don't understand," he confessed with his own weary sigh which surprised Hermione.

She shifted on her feet. They were sore, she'd been standing for hours in heels, and she'd come straight from the office so she was fairly exhausted. She leaned in to speak with him more quietly.

"Can we go somewhere more comfortable to talk? I've been here long enough and I don't think either of us would be happy to have this conversation overheard."

She did a double take when he chuckled.

"Would you believe that's actually why I approached you in the first place?"

"To ask me to go somewhere to talk?" she asked incredulously.

"Or to talk here, if you weren't comfortable being alone with me," he clarified.

"You just wanted to talk to me?" she asked dumbly.

He nodded.

"Why?" she said bluntly.

"Because your parents are muggles."

She just stood staring at him, mouth open. Then, she couldn't help it, she laughed.

"We've already established that over the course of this conversation, and you've known that since we were 11 anyway. It's only ever meant that you called me names," she looked at him quizzically.

"Maybe I want to apologize?" he asked lightly.

She raised an eyebrow at him, doubt written all over her face. Malfoy seemed to have changed, but she didn't believe that he'd changed enough to seek her out solely to apologize, especially considering that he'd yet to get to it. He met her eyes for a moment before flashing her a little grin, as if he realized that she'd sussed him out.

"Okay, I admit, I was hoping you would consider helping me. You see, I've been expanding my business holdings," he explained, "There's more and more contact with the muggle world and it's clear that I'm not knowledgeable. It's becoming embarrassing. But I don't have anybody to ask, I ostracized anybody with close muggle relatives before the war and after they've ostracized me," he said it so matter of factly it was almost laughable, "So, I thought I'd come to my favorite Gryffindor, figuring the worst you could do is hex me and tell me to go away, it's not like our relationship could get any worse, seeing as we've never had one. But I know you to be very fair minded, so I thought I at least had a shot."

He shrugged nonchalantly and she rolled her eyes at his combination of flattery and forthrightness- she had to admit it was persuasive- but she was thrown by his actual request.

"You want me to teach you about muggles?" she asked, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

"That's the general idea, it would be immensely beneficial for me to be able to go out into the muggle world and blend in," he shrugged again, and she wasn't buying his indifferent act for another minute, it'd cost him to ask this of her, "and in return," he hastened to add, "as the Head of an Ancient and Noble House I'll give you some tips to help Potter out even more. As long as you don't tell him about my involvement."

Well, that was interesting. Following Sirius' death Malfoy had become Head of House Black upon his seventeenth birthday as his mother had been born a Black. He was next in line given that neither Sirius nor Regulus ever had a child and all the other branches of the family had died out or were further removed from the claim than Malfoy was.

She knew, of course, that Malfoy had been raised in the world of pureblood politics which was an advantage that obviously neither she nor Harry could claim. And no matter how much research they did- and Hermione was loathe to admit it- but there were certain things that you just couldn't learn from a book. He could be very useful, and given that he was indirectly offering this aid to Harry, she was under no illusions about the enormity of the proposal in his mind.

She should have known he wouldn't have asked for a favor without offering something in return. His pride wouldn't allow it and his Slytherin nature probably never considered that she might be willing to do something out of the goodness of her heart.

"We wouldn't want Harry to know you're not such an evil little ferret, now would we?" She smirked at him, amused though not surprised by his caveat and wanting to see how he'd react to her teasing.

His jaw twitched but otherwise he remained impassive.

"I still don't like him," he confirmed.

"And yet you don't seem to mind me," she hedged.

"My reasons for hating Potter, and Weasley, for that matter, are still valid. My reason for hating you isn't."

There he was again, hinting that he no longer cared about her blood status. She wanted to push but hesitated lest she drive him away before they could finish their discussion, and she was still too curious to let that happen.

"Muggles are a big subject, this won't be one simple conversation, you'll probably have to put up with me for awhile just to get the basics," she challenged, guessing he didn't really understand the scope of his request.

"I remember you being a little bit of a know it all," he challenged right back, "I know _Hermione Granger_ is just dying to enlighten _Draco Malfoy_."

The way he said their names both amused her and made her realize that he'd really thought this through. She assumed he'd had little exposure to the muggle world and probably couldn't understand what an enormous task it could be for somebody who'd lived with magic his whole life to become knowledgeable enough to function without it. But he'd obviously at least seriously considered who he'd ask to help him out with the task.

"I was serious about this taking a while. Ron has been best friends with me and Harry for half our lives and he still has a hard time functioning in the muggle world without instruction. Granted, he's particularly stubborn and set in his ways, but I don't like to leave things unfinished, so don't ask me for a commitment if you won't give me one in return," she issued one last warning, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing up at him daringly.

"I also remember you being bossy. Looks like I was right," he responded as he bobbed his head mockingly.

His taunting actually made up her mind. She'd make Draco Malfoy admit that the muggle world could be extraordinary, and hopefully she could make him suffer a little along the way, his cocky attitude needed to be taken down a notch or two.

And as she looked at his annoyingly but undoubtedly handsome face, she admitted to herself that this could even be fun.

 **Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving Week, day three! It's been a long time since I added anything to this collection, so I hope you enjoy!**


	12. Gossip

Gossip

Harry Potter stepped out of the floo at his in-law's house holding his toddler son, James, on his hip. He emerged just in time to see his pregnant wife, who had preceded them, bolt for the loo. Harry suppressed a sigh at the sight.

He'd wanted to skip the family Sunday brunch at the Burrow just this once. This pregnancy had been tough on Ginny so far, and she was particularly miserable in the mornings. But she'd pointed out that if they didn't attend, her mother would simply show up at their house to fuss over her, and that would be even more stressful for them both than a meal with her boisterous family.

It took him a moment to realize that they appeared to have walked into the middle of an argument. Their entrance hadn't even been noticed by anybody except for his mother-in-law who had followed his wife out of the room. It appeared they were the last to arrive, everybody else was gathered around the large kitchen table attempting to talk over each other. Oddly, there weren't any children in the room.

"What's going on here?" He bellowed.

They quieted immediately and turned to face him. He was, after all, Harry Potter. He knew how to get the attention of a crowd, even his own family.

"Lav's column made the front page," Ron turned to him with a smirk, throwing an arm around his wife, who was standing next to him.

There was a snort of derision from somewhere Harry couldn't determine. Without even knowing the story Harry understood the sentiment. Lavender Weasley née Brown was not, nor had she ever been, one of his favorite people. She was considered- even by her own family- to be almost unbelievably silly. Still, Ron was his best mate, so he put a conciliatory smile on his face.

"That's great, congratulations Lavender," he said, though he couldn't begin to imagine what Lavender could have written in her bi-monthly gossip column that would be considered front page news.

Come to think of it, her column wasn't usually published on Sundays.

As if reading his mind, Ron threw a copy of the paper onto the table in front of Harry and his eyes nearly popped out of his head at what he saw. In bold letters the headline read, ' **AN AFFAIR UNCOVERED** ' and under that, taking up nearly half a page was a picture of Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy sharing a candlelit dinner.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, and opened it again, closed it; all the while blinking rapidly, waiting for the unbelievable image to turn into something that made sense.

"Right?" Ron questioned, with an ugly little smile.

Lavender smirked at him and tossed her blonder-than-ever hair over one shoulder.

"Stupid bint doesn't have any proof and she went and wrote this anyway," hissed George.

Ron turned and pointed at his brother, "watch how you talk about my wife, George, and what do you call that picture?"

"Certainly not proof," George scoffed, "there are plenty of innocent explanations. Somebody should have at least _asked_ her about it before publishing this filth. Britain- _we_ \- owe her better than this."

"There are no innocent reasons for sharing a meal with a Death Eater," Ron insisted.

George let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration. "Merlin, that's all you see, isn't it? Did the war teach you nothing? And how about the way your wife writes about somebody who used to be your best friend? That doesn't bother you? This article is a perversion and yet you sit here all smug, Ronniekins, what's the matter with you?" George shook his head in disappointment.

"As I was saying before Harry got here, perhaps we could sit down and discuss this rationally," Arthur interjected in an even tone, always the voice of reason. Harry had a sneaking suspicion he was the reason the children were out of the room.

He was soundly ignored.

"Why else do you think she scampered off six years ago and just disappeared? It's because she was fucking a Death Eater and he's been keeping her on the side all this time. It's bloody disgusting, and it's time they were exposed, Lav did the right thing," Ron argued.

"'Zat is not true," Fleur practically shrieked, her accent slipping, a clear indication that she was beyond enraged. She took great pride in her now-perfect English. "She did not just leave, she went traveling and then she went to healing school in America!"

"Well sure, that's what she said! Holier than thou Hermione wouldn't want to admit to being a whore and a kept woman. Too bloody proud, she was!"

Harry felt his magic surge with anger. He frantically reigned it in, handed James off to the nearest set of hands, and began to scan the article to see what, exactly, they were dealing with.

With every word he read he felt himself wilt further with guilt and disappointment. It was- what he believed was known in the journalism world as- a 'hack job,' Lavender had clearly rushed it to print. That didn't stop it from being devastating.

It did indeed accuse Hermione of being Lucius Malfoy's mistress from the time she'd left England six years before.

Why else- the article queried- would she, a war heroine, disappear? Unless she had a secret: a married, Death Eater secret. It alleged that she had been living in France on Lucius Malfoy's sickle, where 'a source' had spotted them having a cozy dinner at an exclusive wizarding resort.

But as terrible and unbelievable as that was, it got worse. It heavily suggested that perhaps Hermione wasn't quite as loyal to the light as she'd appeared. It speculated that the affair could have started in the days just after the war; Malfoy trading money and sex for better treatment for him and his family. It finished by entreating readers to consider the information they may have missed out on obtaining because their muggleborn darling was obsessed with an older man.

It was a character assasination of the most salacious kind.

No wonder it had made the front page. And to anybody who didn't know Hermione, accompanied by this picture, it probably sounded perfectly reasonable.

Harry glanced at his best mate who was looking so disgustingly pleased that he wanted to hit him. He knew that Ron had been upset when Hermione had refused his marriage proposal, but they'd all rallied around him. He'd had every comfort while, much to Harry's belated dismay, they'd essentially driven Hermione out of the country. Ron had no reason to hold a grudge.

Harry truly believed that while Ron had been a petty, hot-headed teenager, he'd grown into a good man, even if he did have questionable taste in wives- his original choice of Hermione notwithstanding. But here he sat glorying in trashing and humiliating a woman to whom they both owed their lives. It made Harry feel sick.

And he knew the Malfoys well enough to be certain that they wouldn't take this lying down. He feared for his friend- his brother-in-law- and his family, even as part of him thought they deserved whatever was coming their way. Because Hermione hadn't deserved how she'd been treated, and he didn't believe for a moment that this story Lavender had concocted was true.

Then he remembered that Hermione had a vicious streak that made even him shudder in fear.

* * *

Hermione woke to the sound of an elf's voice.

"Drizzle is sorry Master, Young Mistress, but it is time to get up, breakfast is being served."

She tried to stretch, but her movement was inhibited. She moaned at the crick in her neck and the overall soreness of her body. She was not in bed.

She blinked one bleary eye open and once she adjusted to the light of the room she spotted a familiar blond wizard seated across from her. Her eyes darted around around in alarm and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Right.

She'd fallen asleep playing chess with Lucius in the parlour of the Malfoy villa on the French riviera.

"How did you manage to contort yourself into such a position?" His amused drawl reached her and she blinked her other eye open and tried to untangle her limbs.

She eyed his position in his armchair. "How did you sleep sitting perfectly upright?" She retorted.

The man took stoicism to the next level. It was a miracle he'd fallen asleep in the chair at all. He'd probably refused to go to bed while she'd still been downstairs. Which was kind of sweet, but also kind of ridiculous. One of these days their dueling competitive streaks were going to get them in real trouble.

Draco had already put a stop to a backgammon tournament which, had he won, would have allowed Lucius to name their first child. Not that Lucius would have won. Her fiancé should really learn to trust her. He certainly hadn't complained about the two million pounds she'd made them when she and Lucius had decided to test which of them had the best investment strategy.

After they'd made that bet she'd bought Lucius a subscription to the Financial Times and had it owled to him so that he could literally watch her stocks make money and her portfolio grow. Narcissa had been a most faithful and amusing correspondent in relaying his reactions.

But that was neither here nor there at the moment. She just wished she'd slept in a bed last night, she doubted a pain potion would be much help against the effects of having spent eight hours curled up in an armchair. And she missed Draco, she was unused to sleeping without him. She started when she realized Lucius had risen and was holding a hand out to help her up.

"Thank you," she murmured, as he pulled her to her feet.

"You're quite welcome," he said, offering his arm for her to take, which she did without question. She'd become accustomed to and now even appreciated his old-fashioned manners.

She liked that Draco was more casual, but these ways suited his father. He escorted her upstairs before they went their separate ways. But Lucius was waiting for her on the landing a few minutes later, after they'd both freshened up. They went down to breakfast together.

When they joined Draco and Narcissa at the table there was a strange something in the air. It felt remarkably like tension. Hermione shot her future father-in-law a look as he pulled her chair out, but he merely shrugged in response.

"Did the two of you have a nice night?" Narcissa asked after they had been served, placing a dainty bite of eggs into her mouth.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the older witch's tone and looked to Draco, who seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

"We had a lovely time. Hermione was right, the chef there is remarkable. I am sorry that the two of you missed it," Lucius answered.

"You did not come to bed," Narcissa accused.

Hermione suppressed her natural urge to grimace, given that it had been her fault that Lucius had stayed downstairs. But she was puzzled. This sounded so unlike Narcissa, who was usually very level headed.

"I'm sorry Darling, I did not want to retire too early and disturb you when you had been ill, so I suggested a round of chess. I suppose we played longer than I'd intended and fell asleep over the board," Lucius explained, looking puzzled as well.

"You gave me firewhisky," Hermione interjected in an attempt to lighten the mood, "you know how sleepy it makes me. What did you think was going to happen? What's your excuse?"

"I do not have the advantage of your youth. It was late, I too was drowsy and full with a good meal. At least I did not curl up like a small dog," he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.

"Should we believe them, Draco?" Narcissa asked.

"I don't know, Mother," Draco intoned, "I'd like to think one of us would have noticed if your husband and my fiancée were having a torrid affair right under our noses. But maybe they poisoned that chicken yesterday so that they could have a night alone together."

Hermione stared at the love of her life in abject horror as she processed his words. She whipped her head around to look at Lucius, but his face was completely expressionless. And then in tandem, almost as if they practiced it, Draco and Narcissa removed copies of that morning's Daily Prophet out from under their plates and handed it to their respective significant others.

And then they both burst out laughing.

Hermione was too shocked- watching the mother and son seated before her- to remember to look at the paper she was holding. She'd never seen anything like this from the two of them. Narcissa managed to remain elegant in her laughter, even as she did have tears rolling down her cheeks, but Draco was actually pounding the table in his mirth.

Lucius, apparently, was not so preoccupied. "What is the meaning of this?!" He roared.

Narcissa reached over and placed a calming hand on top of his on the table. "It's alright my darling, there is no harm done, Draco and I were only having some fun with the two of you."

"No harm? No harm! Look what they've said about us. It is one thing to say these things about me, but to denigrate you and Draco, and especially Hermione in this way, is beyond the pale! I am going to purchase this disgusting rag and then I'm going to make everybody who contributed to the printing of this tripe live to regret it. Draco, can I count on your assistance?"

At this point Hermione remembered the paper. She unfolded it and her mouth immediately dropped open in shock. She read it with the ease and speed of a true bibliophile and as she did so her eyes filled with tears and a sob caught in her throat.

"I am so sorry!" She wailed.

She felt a hand cover her knee but she couldn't bring herself to meet Draco's eyes. They hadn't even re-entered British society yet and she was already causing his family the kind of trouble that landed them on the front page.

"Whatever are you sorry for, dear?" She heard Narcissa ask.

"This is my fault, she never would have written this if not for me. All the three of you have done for the past seven years is keep your heads down and try to make amends, and now she's attacking you because of me."

"I hate to disagree," said Lucius. "Look at me Hermione," he commanded. She automatically looked up and met his steel eyes. "You cannot reasonably be blamed for my misdeeds over the past 30 years. That, on top of my position within our society, makes me a constant target. It is a more delicious story because it is you, but that does not make it your fault."

"But-"

"No, I won't hear it."

She took a deep breath and gave him a tight smile. Draco reached over and took her hand, bringing it to his lips and leaving the sweetest kiss on her knuckles, his eyes full of love. She finally let out her breath.

"Let's focus on the opportunity here," Narcissa interrupted, and Hermione whipped her head around to see her fearsome future mother-in-law looking positively gleeful.

That was never a good sign for whomever was on the other end of her plans. Her next words confirmed Hermione's suspicions.

"Let's make them pay for attempting to disparage our family."

Hermione was almost tempted to send Lavender Weasley an owl of warning. She had everything she needed here with her. She didn't care what anybody else thought. But then she thought of the damage this could cause to these Slytherins who had become such a central part of her life- and she knew that she wouldn't.

In fact, she would help.

 **Author's Note: Day five! Thank all you lovely people. For anybody following both stories, 'Calla' is queued up for tomorrow. Also, I'm always happy to hear if you'd like for me to continue on with a one-shot, I can't promise anything but I'm thrilled by the ideas. (I hear you people commenting on the last chapter of this collection) XOXO**


	13. Gossip 2

Harry flooded into the Burrow holding his son. Much like what had occurred the week before he arrived just in time to see his wife make a run for the loo, he also walked straight into another argument. He could see multiple copies of the Prophet spread across the kitchen table and he sighed. If this kept up, he'd have to get a subscription to the rag just so that he was properly prepared for family gatherings.

"What is it this time?" he asked with a resigned sigh.

Bill, who was standing closest to him, turned and made a face, "the Malfoys have responded, Lavender has been fired."

"They got her fired?"

Harry didn't know why he was surprised, Lucius Malfoy was as ruthless as ever.

Bill snorted. "She got herself fired, she was apparently so excited about a juicy bit of gossip about two people she didn't like that she didn't bother to do any research at all. I had serious doubts that Hermione was the kind of witch to carry on an affair with a married man at all, much less Lucius Malfoy, but I thought she had at least _some_ proof other than that one photo."

"So, what's really going on?"

He held out a copy of the paper and traded him it for James. This week's headline was larger than last week's, probably to compensate for the lack of explosive photograph. ' **MALFOY SCION TO WED WAR HEROINE** ' Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. It was certainly less shocking that she would marry the son than that she would have an affair with the father, but Harry still had a hard time picturing his best friend with her childhood bully. Then again, he had to admit that he didn't really know her anymore.

Beneath the headline were two separate pictures, one of Malfoy and one of Hermione, they both appeared to have come from the Prophet's own archives. He remembered the picture of Hermione, it had been taken not long after the end of the war. Malfoy's was more recent as he was often in the country for Wizengamot sessions and to take care of Black family business. Although, Harry knew he now lived in America where he, surprisingly, had been training to be a healer...in the same country where Hermione had moved to go to healing school.

Things began to fall into place then. He and Malfoy had become, not friends, but something like political allies. He brought a surprisingly liberal agenda to the Wizengamot. He advocated for many causes- like werewolf rights- which were also important to Harry, and Malfoy was considerably better at playing the political game than he was. So they'd paired up, and the combination of Harry's hero status and Malfoys acumen got a lot of things done.

They occasionally got together for a drink, sometimes with Neville who had taken the Longbottom seat, and once in awhile even Malfoy senior joined them. Ostensibly it was to talk about what they wanted to accomplish in the next legislative session, but it always invariably turned to their personal lives. Harry spoke of James and Ginny, of course, and Malfoy had a witch he was almost pathetically over the moon for. Her name was Maia, and even the elder Malfoy spoke of her fondly. Harry had thought she must be something to have won over the impenetrable Lord Malfoy. It was only now that he remembered Maia had been Hermione's childhood nickname, courtesy of her father.

He was a fool.

She'd been so close, and yet so far away for all this time. He had a sinking feeling that she'd asked the Malfoys not to reveal her identity to him. They hadn't parted on good terms, after all. But how had he not put the pieces together? How had he not seen Hermione's hand in Malfoy's political agenda? Merlin, when he spoke, sometimes he sounded just like her.

Harry finished scanning the paper. Aside from the almost outrageously large headline and the two old pictures there were just a couple of sentences to the actual article. It was simply a formal engagement announcement and would normally be tucked away in a back section of the paper. It was fairly obvious the couple in question and their families had refused to give an interview or even contribute a picture and the paper had parlayed the standard announcement any family would send to the paper when their son became engaged, into front page news. It was smart, the headline alone would sell papers but it was not the exclusive they likely would have gotten without Lavender's slanderous article.

"Wow, Lavender certainly got the wrong end of that."

"Oh you don't know the half of it," said Bill who was throwing James up into the air over and over, much to the squealing delight of the toddler, he jerked his head to the side gesturing to the kitchen table and Harry realized it wasn't covered just in copies of the Daily Prophet but also of Witch Weekly, which was released every Sunday, as well.

He didn't know how he hadn't noticed it right away, because smiling up at him from the front cover of the magazine were Hermione and Malfoy, looking every inch a beautiful, rich, aristocratic couple who also just happened to be disgustingly in love. His heart stuttered in his chest. At one time he would have had a front row seat to his former friend's obvious joy, today he'd have to read about it in a magazine.

His heart sank, and he just knew this wasn't the end.

0000000000

Ginny made reservations for them and all of her brothers and their wives at the newest and most exclusive restaurant in Diagon Alley to celebrate both of their birthdays. He would have been happy with just the joint celebration Molly threw them at the Burrow every year, but she insisted that there were two of them, they deserved two parties. He knew she appreciated her mother's efforts, but that she also liked to see and be seen, so he never fought her when she made these arrangements every year.

He actually liked 'Bon Vivant,' it was obviously a high end establishment, but it didn't feel stuffy. They were seated immediately (of course they were) and while Harry didn't understand half the menu a few looks around told him he could easily find something he'd like to eat. Fleur would happily help him with the translation.

He was busy whispering to her when he heard Lavender gasp.

"Oh my Merlin, that witch is wearing an Ava Gerard from her most recent line, it's not even supposed to be available yet!"

Fleur's head snapped up at this exclamation and she gazed in the direction Lavender was looking. "Oh! That's Claire! We attended Beauxbatons together, she was in the year below me. I'm not surprised, she had impeccable tastes."

Harry could tell she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

"Oh Fleur, would you go talk to her, maybe go get me an introduction?" Lavender begged.

More than one person squirmed uncomfortably at this statement, after she'd been fired from The Prophet she'd managed to parlay herself a position- due to her status as a Weasley and a close associate of Harry Potter- as an independent fashion consultant.

For a moment Fleur looked outraged, but then he saw something like calculation flash across her face. "Of course," she responded easily and allowed herself to be helped from her seat by her husband- she was heavily pregnant with their third child. Bill said nothing, but he was looking at his wife like she'd lost her mind.

Harry watched, curious and a more than a little apprehensive, as Fleur approached the other woman. But the two blondes greeted each other amicably and then conversed easily, and then they began to make their way back over to the table. Lavender was practically panting with anticipation.

They arrived and Fleur introduced Claire to them each in turn. Her eyes didn't linger on him which was a nice change, but was also strangely disconcerting. He didn't think he was being conceited in thinking that something wasn't right.

"It's so nice to meet a friend of Fleur's from school," Lavender gushed with exaggerated slowness, like she didn't expect the witch to understand, even though Fleur had been speaking English the whole time. "I just love your dress, where did you get it?"

Claire lit up, her beauty was something to behold, even standing next to a witch as extraordinary as Fleur. Perhaps that's why they'd gotten along. "Oh, Ava is brilliant isn't she?" She answered in perfect English with no hint of a French accent.

Harry ducked his head. He was becoming embarrassed _for_ Lavender but she didn't miss a beat, just nodded eagerly.

"I'm just lucky that my cousin got me an 'in' with her. She sends me things she thinks I would like without me even having to ask, and she designs custom things for me all the time, it's fantastic."

Lavender's eyes were practically bugging out of her head, but Harry's senses were itching. A lifetime of hunting and being hunted by dark wizards told him that a trap had been sprung. But the thing was that he wasn't particularly concerned about rescuing Lavender from whatever it was.

"Is there any way I could meet your cousin?" Lavender asked eagerly.

Harry cringed, even he realized it was an incredibly crass and mercenary question.

Claire just blinked at the other witch with seeming innocence, but now Harry was certain that in some way this was a set-up.

"But I thought that you already knew him?" Claire asked.

"I'm sorry?" Lavender was obviously taken aback. "Him?"

"Well you went to school with him. His name is Draco Malfoy and I suppose it's technically his fiancée who got me the in with Ava. She and Ava's daughter, Sera, are best friends, and Ava considers Hermione to be like another daughter. She's put weeks aside just to design her wedding gown."

Harry could practically hear Lavender's heart break but he couldn't bring himself to feel any pity for the witch.

And then, like a well rehearsed play, Lucius and Draco Malfoy entered the scene, accompanied by another man he'd never seen before but who quickly put his arm around Claire.

"Hello dear," Lucius greeted. "Have you misplaced my wife and future daughter in law?"

She laughed. "They needed the loo, but an old friend spotted me," she tilted her head in Fleur's direction, "and brought me to introduce me to her family. I believe you are acquainted?"

"Indeed," he responded. He eyed Lavender. "Perhaps Madam Weasley would like to accuse me of committing adultery in person? Of having relations with a woman who I think of as my own daughter."

"We didn't know," Ron hissed, "how were we to know? And it's equally disgusting either way."

"You cut her off, that's why you didn't know," Draco turned accusing eyes on each of them. "That was your choice, your fault. And to make such assumptions, also your fault."

"You got Lavender fired!"

"As she deserved to be!" Draco hissed. "What is the matter with you? She slandered a completely innocent witch. You're lucky that Hermione is a better person than all of us or we would have taken you for all you're worth," he spat at Ron.

"You better make her happy, Malfoy, that's all we ask," Harry interrupted feeling like it was the very least he could offer his old friend..

"He does," came a voice from behind the Malfoys. "But it takes a lot of fucking nerve for you to think you have any right to make such a request."

And like the parting of the Red Sea, Draco and Lucius made room for their respective witches. The exchange of smirks between all of the Malfoys except for Hermione (and she wasn't yet, technically, a Malfoy) confirmed his suspicions.

Nothing about this exchange had been a coincidence. Hermione seemed surprised, but determined. The rest of them had planned this, but she was now on board. Draco looped an arm around her waist and she sent him a glare, but didn't protest when he kissed her.

"Hello Harry," she greeted with a cool smile, but not nearly as cool as the gaze she directed towards the rest of the table. "You will leave my family alone, or you'll know what it is to really suffer. Goodbye."

"Is that a threat!" Ron shouted as they turned to walk away.

Hermione didn't even bother to turn around when she answered him. "Yes."

"We're not afraid of you."

Again, she didn't bother to turn around. "Then you're an even bigger fool than I thought."

Ron attempted to lunge out of his chair but Harry, along with nearly all of the Weasley brothers were on him, holding him back.

The next week at work Harry wasn't at all surprised to discover that the primary investor in 'Bon Vivant' was Malfoy Enterprises. He knew he should have been upset, but all he did was smile to himself and sent a silent prayer to the universe that they treated her better than he had and hope that maybe, one day, he could be her friend again.


End file.
